Don't Pay the Ferryman
by Ozzyols
Summary: Josh is invited to an auction he can't resist
1. Chapter 1

8.30pm Friday, 28th June 2002. Washington DC

"Do you really have to go?" he whined as she packed up her desk for the day.

"Yes Josh, I really do."

"Surely you could find some excuse not to… y'know, go?"

"Besides the fact that I _want_ to go, what would we tell Leo? Or the President?"

"You're spiteful."

"Yes, it's part of my girlish charm."

"Y'know Donna, there are days when I really don't like you that much."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"You're fired!"

She picked up her bag and swung it over her shoulder in a wide arc, narrowly missing Josh's head as he leant back to avoid the black 'Prada' bootleg. Yes it was a knock off and Josh had hassled her over it many times since she had purchased it, but she was, after all, a girl on a budget. Donna raised her chin, turned on her heel and walked out of the bullpen.

"Impervious!" she called as the door swung closed behind her. "See you on the 15th."

Josh watched Donna's retreating form until she turned the corner out of his view.

"Two weeks…" he muttered to himself, running his hand roughly through his already tousled hair. "What the hell am I going to do for two weeks?" Rubbing his eyes and sighing heavily, the Deputy Chief of Staff walked back into his office and closed the door with a solid 'thud'.

2.45pm Saturday 29 June 2002, Washington National Airport

'I can't believe we're actually going!' Donna thought. _God Nai you're such a star!_

Donna sat on the edge of a chair in the Gate 15 boarding area of Washington National Airport – it had been renamed 'Reagan' years ago, but Josh, stubbornly, refused to use the name and to that end Donna found herself mimicking her boss and calling it 'National'. The LCD screen scrolled the time of her flight and destination – 15.05 Delta to JFK International. But New York was not her final destination. She was on her way to somewhere far more exotic than the 'Big Apple'. Nervous tension ran like wildfire through her body; she was a bundle of energy. Waiting for something always put her on edge, but this was a good kind of 'edge'. For the first time in four years she was finally going on a holiday. An honest to God, real life, holiday! Not some three day 'Hi and Bye' back to her folks' place. Not some whirlwind visit to a foreign land where all her time was spent keeping Josh out of trouble. No, this was a two week, fully paid for, no holds barred holiday… to EGYPT!

She knew she was grinning like a five year old on Santa's knee, but she couldn't help herself. Her hands were clasped in her lap, both her legs jiggling up and down.

"Jeez, Donna! Settle down." A rich, vibrant female voice chuckled next to her. "Honestly, I'm not sure if you're just excited, or really need to pee!"

Donna stopped her legs mid-jiggle and looked sheepishly at the young woman lolling on the seat next to her. Naima Alexandria Carter was the exact opposite of Donnatella Moss in every respect, which was probably why they had remained friends for so long. Whereas Donna was a picture of nervous excitement, Naima was cool, calm and collected – the image of a seasoned traveler.

Naima was the night to Donna's day. In stark contrast to Donna's lithe ballerina like physique, her alabaster skin, startling blue eyes and wealth of dazzling blonde hair, Naima was curvaceous, petite and dark; her naturally bronzed skin, waves of raven black hair and almond eyes betraying her Middle Eastern heritage.

Her mother had been the daughter of an Egyptian diplomat who had been posted to the United States in the late sixties. Rashida Feyr had decided to stay and apply for citizenship in the States after meeting and falling in love with Derek Carter a young bank clerk working in New York. Shortly before Naima's third birthday, Derek moved his small family back to his home town of Madison Wisconsin. And it was there in _Oakleaf Kindergarten_ that Donna and Naima met for the first time. The girls became hard and fast friends from day one, and their parents used to joke when they saw the two young girls skipping hand in hand, that it was like looking at the positive and negative of the same picture.

They remained friends all through school until they lost track of each other briefly after Donna left "Dr Freeride" as Josh liked to call him, to join the Bartlet for America campaign. It wasn't until Naima saw a shot of Donna on the news during the coverage of what happened at Rosslyn that they got back in touch, and then, Donna was too busy worrying about whether Josh was going to make it, and taking charge of his recovery for them to do much more than talk on the phone every now and then.

Once the worst was over, though, they kept up their habit of regular chats to exchange news and gossip. Although they both knew they would never be as close as they once were, they had seen each other a couple of times when Naima had come up to DC on business, or on the rare occasions Donna made it home, and called each other once a week when they could.

So what had happened six weeks earlier was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

Donna and the rest of the West Wing staff were still reeling over the death of Simon Donovan, the Secret Service agent who had been detailed to CJ. Josh appeared to be in the middle of his 'on-again-off-again-Finnegan-begin-again' spats with Amy Gardner and Donna decided she really needed a break.

The campaign for re-election was already underway, but was not scheduled to kick into high gear until around September. Donna had pondered asking for a couple of days off, when salvation had come at the end of a phone line one Sunday afternoon. Naima had called to say that her maternal grandfather had been in contact complaining that he had not seen her in years and wanted to spend some 'quality' time with his favorite granddaughter. So he was using what ties he had left with the diplomatic corps to swing two return coach airline tickets to Cairo for two weeks at the beginning of July.

Donna was delighted that Naima had thought of her – she'd never been to Egypt but it was somewhere she'd always longed to visit. But she'd explained that, as a government employee, she couldn't accept the ticket as a gift. Naima had laughed at her sense of propriety, but Donna had nonetheless insisted on paying for her own flight before agreeing to accompany Naima on the trip. Naima had given in, telling Donna that Hakim was planning to spoil them rotten once they were in Cairo anyway, so that would make up for Donna paying for her own ticket. They began making plans, and as Donna hung up the phone, she realized she had overlooked one small… insignificant… detail…

Getting Josh to let her have the time off.

To say that Josh liked to monopolize her time was a bit of an understatement. So Donna spent more time at the office than at home, but if she was honest, it was as much her fault as Josh's.

Donna liked her job. She was proud of her job. And she was damned _good_ at her job. For a College dropout with no administrative background to become the senior assistant to the White House Deputy Chief of Staff was a pretty impressive achievement.

And it wasn't like Josh was a difficult boss to work for…. OK, at times, he was an exceedingly difficult man to work for, but in general, those times were few and far between – when he'd lost an important vote, or mis-judged something, like with the Tobacco suit … or gotten his girlfriend fired. But most of the time, she knew he wasn't like the other bosses on the Senior Staff. He took the time to explain things to her and used her as a sounding board. He trusted her, listened to her opinion… and although things had been a bit strained between them over the past few months, she knew he still found her …valuable.

For the last couple of weeks, Donna had been deliberating how best to approach Josh about getting a full 2 weeks vacation time. Suddenly her departure was less than a month away and she hadn't made her request. Still not quite sure what to do, she started off by dropping a few gentle hints here and there. Josh being Josh, he either ignored or didn't notice the subtlety she was employing and Donna realized it was time to be more direct.

Her mind wandered back two weeks

"_Josh?" she said, walking purposefully into his office._

"_Hmmm?" he grunted without looking up from his paperwork, his pen bobbing up and down as he twirled it between his fingers._

"_I've been invited on a two week, holiday to Egypt and I want to go. And now I want you to give me the time off."_

_OK – that was direct enough. If he didn't take the hint on that one…_

_Josh looked up, raising his eyebrows quizzically at her as he straightened up in his chair, the pen stilling his in fingers._

"_You've been offered a what?"_

_Donna folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes at him._

"_A two week trip to Egypt."_

"_When?"_

"_The flight's booked for Saturday, June 29."_

"_Donna! That's less than a month away."_

"_Yes I know, but you're a powerful man, Josh with great sway over all who work for you… including personnel."_

_Josh eyed her suspiciously._

"_Who got you these tickets?"_

"_Pardon?"_

"_You said you'd been 'offered' a trip to Egypt. Who's offering?"_

"_A friend."_

"_A friend?"_

"_A friend!"_

"_A…. male friend?"_

"_What does that have to do with it?"_

"_Just… asking… y'know… so I can make an informed decision."_

"_And if I said it was a male friend?"_

_Josh paused a moment too long._

"_Aargh!" Donna huffed and narrowed her eyes at him, before turning round and stomping back to her cubicle. She grabbed her purse, spun around and slammed straight into Josh who must have leapt out of his chair to follow her._

"_I just wanted to know because…"_

_He didn't get very far because Donna cut him off mid-sentence stabbing her index finger into his chest as she spoke._

"_I am going to lunch." Donna said leaving no room for argument. "You have a meeting at one with Leo and then a meeting with the President and McClusky about the new HUD figures at 1.30, and I was instructed to tell you not to be late." She raised her chin imperiously and stalked out in a huff._

_As soon as she cleared the bull pen and made her way into the North West lobby Donna paused and allowed herself a little smile. Josh's reaction had been so predictable… half the time it just wasn't any fun._

_Having put the first part of "operation time off" into action, it was time for part two. Donna had never forgotten something her mother had told her way back before she started college_. "Let the men in your life always think that things were their idea. They very rarely are, but if you make them think it's their idea, you can have the world."_ And when that doesn't work_? "Well then dear, just look for a higher authority.

_Part two of Donna's plan now required the services of that "higher authority" - Margaret._

_After that, it had been relatively easy to get what she wanted. The men of the West Wing had never managed to fathom the power of the sisterhood, and in the end, all it took was a well placed word in Margaret's ear and suddenly the entire female staff was treating Josh Lyman like something they had scraped off the bottom of their shoe._

_For the next three days, Donna watched in amusement as Josh became the target of a barrage of barbs and paint-peeling glares from the ladies of the West Wing. Another day, and he was the subject of quite a few none too subtle comments from some of the male staff as well – it seemed Josh's punishment had been extended to the other men on the Senior Staff. It might have been amusing to watch were it not for the fact that it finally culminated in his being summoned by the President._

_Donna almost felt a little bit guilty as she watched Josh heading for the meeting – the fallout from the Family Wellness Act was still an issue between him and the President, with Josh apparently being on the receiving end of more than a few curt comments from his Commander in Chief. The feeling had almost passed when, about fifteen minutes later, she received an invitation to join them in the Oval. _

_As Donna walked into the private office she could hear the President's voice raised in thinly veiled anger as it filtered through the partially opened Oval Office door._

"_Josh, I am going to say this only once. I've had enough of this. You are going to let Donna go on this holiday. I don't have time for the high-school antics that my staff seems to have gotten themselves into over this issue. I've got three private secretaries out there who are doing just enough to prevent me from firing their asses. Now if you want to make sure that YOU have a job by the time Donna comes back may I suggest that you contact personnel pretty damn pronto and organize a temp for her absence!"_

_Donna had had no idea the President would come down on Josh that harshly. _

"_He's expecting you," Charlie said with a knowing smile._

_Donna smiled back a little shakily, and walked past Charlie's desk to stand in front of the door the Oval Office. She knocked lightly._

"_Come!" called the President._

_Donna opened the door. As she entered, the three occupants of the room turned to look at her, and the tension was almost palpable. The President was sitting behind the Resolute desk, looking over the glasses which were perched at the end of his nose. Leo was sitting on one of the Chesterfield-styled sofas in the middle of the office, and Josh was standing just in front of the Presidential seal in the carpet his hands stuffed into his pockets, looking for all the world like a like a child being chastised by its father._

"_Ah, Donna!" President Bartlet said in a tone considerably lighter than one she had just heard. "Come in."_

_Donna may have come a long way since the day she raised her hand to speak in the Oval Office, but she never lost that feeling of… awe … at simply being invited into the presence of the most powerful man in the world._

"_You wanted to see me, Sir?"_

"_Yes, yes… Leo tells me that you have been offered an opportunity to go on a holiday to Cairo?"_

"_Yes, Mr President."_

"_Do you want to go?"_

_Donna couldn't help but notice that even though he was addressing her, the President was still glaring at Josh, who, she noted, was looking not only a little downcast, but slightly ashamed of himself as well. Against her better judgment, Donna found herself starting to feel sorry for him. She was always helpless when faced with the puppy-dog expression, and while getting Josh into trouble with the assistants had been fun, Donna had never intended things to go this far. She had never meant for it to end up in the Oval office._

_Donna realized that the President was speaking to her, and tore her eyes from Josh._

"_Donna?"_

"_Yes Sir, I do."_

"_What's stopping you?"_

_Again, it was more of an accusation directed at Josh than a question._

"_I'm needed here, Sir."_

"_Twoddle!" the President huffed. "There is absolutely nothing here that can't be handled without you. Is there, Josh?"_

_Josh murmured something under his breath._

"_I'll take that as a 'Yes Mr President'." He picked up a file from on his desk and waved it at her. "It says here Donna, that since you started working for this… this…" the President was obviously trying to think of something to call Josh, settling on. "…administration, you have had a total of twelve recreational days off, excluding public holidays. Twelve in four years Donna? Did we diddle you out of something when we drew up your employment contract? I was certain that all Federal employees were entitled to a minimum thirteen days annual leave per year? Was I mistaken in that belief?" Donna shook her head. "Good," Bartlet glanced at her, then back at Josh. "I just wanted to be sure that I couldn't be sued at some point in the future for unfair work practices."_

"_Sir, I would never…"_

"_In addition to that Ms Moss, I see here from your security log that you haven't had a day off, weekend or other public holiday off, since January and it's now June… And if I look even further into your records young lady I see that between my Inauguration on January 20 1999 and June 1, 2002, a total of One thousand, two hundred and twenty nine days, on only one hundred and seventy nine of those days have you not come into work over that period. And yes, I have made allowances for your sick leave and any days you have booked as personal leave. Don't you enjoy having weekends Donna?" _

_Donna decided she had to interrupt at this point. _

"_Mr President, I should point out that there have been times when I _have_ been away from the West Wing for a week or more – when I've accompanied Josh overseas – and as for those other times, well, sometimes I've just been in the office for a couple of hours, so I haven't really been here all day."_

_And now she was defending Josh… dammit! The President was making… well… a thing of the amount of time she spent at the office, seemingly ignoring the fact that Josh practically _lived _there! It was true - she might come in for a couple of hours on the weekend, but it was usually to make sure that Josh wasn't running himself into the ground. Josh on the other hand, was usually there from the crack of dawn no matter what day it was. She usually ended up running down to the Mess to get them both some lunch, and then sat in his office making sure he ate some of it. How many mornings had she come into work only to find Josh asleep at his desk?_

_And – now she thought about it – what was up with Josh? Normally he would have tried to defend himself in a situation like this, but right now he seemed more intent on studying the pattern of the carpet. Before she could ponder it any further, the President continued, taking off his glasses and gesturing towards Josh as he spoke._

"_Be that as it may, but as I was about to say, you've shown a dedication to me and this knucklehead standing in front of me above and beyond anything we have a right to expect." Donna noticed Josh wince at that accusation. "So, it is my right and privilege to tell you, take the damn holiday and I don't want to see your face back in this building until after the 14th of July, do you understand me? You are to go, explore and frolic in the wonder and majesty that is Egypt. And I want a full report on how wonderful and relaxing it was to be away from this madhouse when you get back."_

_Donna swallowed and nodded._

"_Right, so that's settled…" the President leaned back in his chair. "Off you go," he waved his hand at her in dismissal._

"_Thank you, Mr President." Donna said quietly. As she turned to go she heard him address Josh again, the edge returning to his voice._

_Closing the office door behind her, Donna allowed herself a little smile._

"_Congratulations, by the way." Charlie was grinning at her. "Enjoy Cairo – it's an amazing place."_

"_So I've…" Donna began, only to be cut off by the sound of the President's voice booming from the Oval Office._

"_Charlie!" _

"_Gotta go!" Charlie said, bouncing up out of his seat and passing Josh who had just emerged looking more than a little harried and rather sheepish._

"_Hey, Josh."_

_Josh didn't even acknowledge Charlie's greeting and continued out into the corridor. That was odd. Donna hurried to catch up with him and, as usual, fell into step beside him. She was trying to think of something to say, when she felt his hand settle gently on the small of her back as he started to guide her into the small meeting room at the rear of the Northwest Lobby_

_Once they were inside, she turned to look at him. His face was a picture of conflicting emotions and she knew that he, too, was struggling to find something to say – also odd. Somewhat predictably they both spoke at the same time._

"_I'm sorry I didn't give you the time off before…"_

"_I'm sorry the President got involved..."_

_They looked at each other and half smiled._

"_Really, Donna." Josh said softly, and she felt that familiar lurch in her stomach, that small spark of electricity as he gently laid his hand on her bare forearm. "I should have insisted you take a holiday long before now." He removed his hand and ran it over the back of his neck. "It never occurred to me that you might need one."_

_Donna smiled. Of course it wouldn't have occurred to Josh. Josh rarely noticed the change of the seasons._

"_It's fine Josh. Really. I'm sorry it got so out of hand – I never expected it to become, you know, a thing. I probably shouldn't have involved Margaret."_

"_Yeah. That would have been a big help."_

"_Friends?" She held out her hands to him._

"_Friends," he repeated, taking them in his._

_They stood there for several seconds just grinning at each other, when they heard a startled expletive from behind them. A very embarrassed Ed stood in the doorway._

"_Oh Geez, sorry…."_

_Josh and Donna dropped each others' hands like they were hot potatoes and instinctively moved further apart. Donna felt herself blushing._

_Josh, however was one step ahead._

"_What do you know," he said nonchalantly, "they were right. You do the circle of summoning in the seal room and a minion will appear!"_

_Ed's face wore a very puzzled expression._

"_See Donna, Mrs Bartlet's Ouija board isn't a crock! Catch you later, Ed." Josh slapped the young man on the upper arm, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and sauntered out of the room. Donna just grinned and fled as quickly as she could. _

_She was going to Egypt!_

A loudspeaker message brought Donna back to the present.

"_This is the first boarding call for passengers on flight 172 to JFK International Airport. Would passengers with seat assignments K to T please make their way to the departure gate: All passengers are asked to have their boarding passes ready for inspection."_

"That's us," Naima said, standing up and stretching. She reached down and pulled the handle of her carryon out to its full extent. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she started to move through the lounge towards the departure gate.

Donna was following suit, moving into line behind Naima when she thought she heard her name being called and stopped for a second. She shrugged and turned back to follow Naima, only to hear it again.

"Donna! Donnatella Moss!"

There was only one person who bellowed her name like that, but what the hell was he doing here? She could see two figures jogging towards her – one a member of the Delta flight staff and the other… Donna sighed as they caught up with her.

"Joshua!" She attempted to scold him, but realized she didn't really sound all that upset.

"Fancy seeing you here," he grinned, giving his dimples a full work out. He was dressed in his weekend best, a combination of a pair of faded blue denim jeans, a chocolate brown shirt and his dark brown suede jacket.

Out of the corner of her eye, Donna noticed the Delta employee go over and speak to the flight attendant who was handling the boarding passes.

"Josh! What did I tell you?"

"I can't remember," he lied… badly.

"I told you I didn't need you seeing me off!"

"Did you? I don't recall that conversation!"

"Josh! We were in Sam's office, you know, when you were trying to worm my holiday schedule out of me! I told you that I didn't need you seeing me off because…?" she left the question hanging.

"Because, you weren't traveling alone and didn't need a farewell committee," he recited, still grinning.

"Yes! Good! You do remember!" Donna tried desperately to keep her 'stern face' on, but God help her, that grin was infectious, and despite herself, she felt her face cracking into an answering smile.

"Donna, come on!" Naima called as the line moved steadily forward.

Josh grabbed at Donna's elbow and started pulling her out of the line, his grin fading as he turned her to face him.

"Look, Donna – I need to tell you something."

"Josh – our seats are boarding now." She glanced anxiously over her shoulder to see Naima speaking to the attendant at the desk.

"Yeah, about that…"

Donna caught his sheepish expression. Her eyes widened.

"Oh God! What have you done?"

Donna was worried now. What insane scheme had he cooked up? She felt a nudge at her other elbow and turned to see Naima standing next to her, a bemused expression on her face.

"Nai? What the hell are you doing out of line? We need to board now."

"No, we don't," she grinned. "Hey Josh."

Josh nodded and smiled.

"What do you mean?" Donna was confused now.

"Well – it would appear that our tickets have been bumped."

"Bumped?"

"Yeah, as in someone has bumped us to business for the flight to JFK."

Naima flashed Josh a huge, flirtatious smile and Donna had to fight the urge to tell her to knock it off.

Josh's smile became even more sheepish.

"What?" Donna asked softly, taking a small step closer to his side.

Josh shrugged. "I wanted to apologize for the other week. I was a jerk... and I never really did say sorry."

"Josh you can't do this! I can't accept an upgrade; we're government employees, and you're my boss!"

"But I thought of that," he leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. "And in fact, _I_ haven't given you anything!"

"How, or rather, who then?"

Josh shrugged.

The dimples were back, and he was rocking back on his heels, looking far too pleased with himself.

"I gave the money to Margaret and she paid for it on her credit card."

_I'm going to kill her_, Donna thought. But it was a really sweet gesture.

"So. Anyway." Josh looked away, suddenly embarrassed. "That's all I came here to say. I've got to get back to the office…" He paused, looking at Donna with a crooked grin. "You don't want to come back?"

"Josh!"

He held up his hands in defeat.

"Hey – you can't blame a guy for trying!"

"Oh, I think I can – and _you_ are incredibly trying!"

Josh laughed, and Donna, couldn't help herself. She dropped her shoulder bag and reached up and hugged him with all her strength and was rewarded with the comforting pressure of his arms and hands wrapping around her waist. She could feel his chin nestled into her left shoulder, as she breathed deeply and caught the familiar tang of his cologne. They didn't hug often – in fact she could probably count on the number of times they had on the fingers of one hand – but she remembered every one of them. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut to embed this one in her memory, she heard him sigh, the sound muffled by her shoulder. Turning his head slightly he whispered in her ear –

"Enjoy yourself, Donna. And come back to me soon."

He released her slowly, and Donna took a step backwards, blinking furiously as tears… of parting… threatened to cloud her eyes.

"Naima." Josh nodded to her friend. "Have fun – and keep her out of trouble."

"Me? Keep someone out of trouble? You've got to be joking!"

"Well, try at least." He grinned and started to walk away, taking only a couple of steps before pivoting on his heel and walking backwards away from them as he spoke. "Remember – you do anything crazy over there or start… a thing and I'll hear about it!" He waved at them and waved before spinning back around and walking away.

Donna watched him openly, something she never allowed herself to do at work, so intent on following Josh's retreating form that she didn't notice Naima coming to stand next to her. Nudging her elbow, Naima regarded her quizzically.

"You want to get _away_ from that! You're nuts, right? I mean, Donna, he's – "

"Miss Moss? Miss Carter?" Donna was grateful for the interruption, and turned to see a flight attendant approaching them. "Sorry for the delay, but we're ready to seat you now. Please follow me."

Donna didn't trust herself to answer Naima's question. Instead she took a deep breath, inhaling the slight lingering scent of his cologne, remembering the feel of his arms around her – and smiled. Josh Lyman. The human enigma, wrapped in a mystery, tied in a conundrum! Of course, _his_ was the office she'd chosen to walk into that fateful February!

Strapped in and ready for take off Donna ran her hands over the arms of the Delta business class seats and thought of what he had done.

"Only you Josh, only you!" she smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wednesday July 3, 2002. Cairo – 8:30pm local time**

"C'mon! It'll be fun," Naima pleaded with Donna.

Donna groaned internally – all she wanted was a good night's sleep. She'd really had no idea that Naima was such a party animal. So much for coming on holiday for a rest - Donna hadn't been able to stop for five minutes to catch her breath let alone get some sleep! Naima had been right when she'd said that her grandfather was planning on spoiling them; Hakim had been the perfect host. He had taken them to dinner the first night they had arrived, when Naima had talked Donna into trying a very innocuous looking dish that turned into a small volcano in her mouth. Naima's Egyptian relatives thought this was a great joke, although Donna found it a little harder to see the funny side of it.

Now three days in, Donna's taste buds had finally become desensitized enough for her to be able to enjoy the spicy foods she was eating. But it wasn't just the foods that were exotic. Hakim and Naima had taken Donna practically everywhere within the greater Cairo area in an insanely short period of time. Donna kept reminding her friend that they had two weeks, but Naima wanted to see everything straight away. So their days were filled with sightseeing and shopping, with her Grandfather acting as the ultimate tour guide to places like the famous Bazaar _Khan el-Khalili souk_, and their nights… their nights were filled with partying and clubbing into the wee small hours lead by Naima's cousin Runihura – or Runi for short.

Runi was a builder by trade, good looking and well built, the only child of Hakim's youngest daughter, who had died when Runi was only three. Hakim had brought Runi up, but it was clear that they were having some… differences of opinion lately. During her brief stay, Donna had heard them arguing on more than one occasion – mostly in Arabic – but once, when they had slipped into English, she had overheard something about problems with a bill from an establishment called the Gezira Club.

It wasn't hard to see that Runi was someone who liked to party. In the first two days they had been here, Donna and Naima had been introduced to Runi's entire circle of friends – which was, it appeared, another a sore point between Runi and Hakim. Naima told Donna that Runi had started training as an architect but had had to leave the university under something of a cloud. Hakim didn't like the company that Runi was keeping, but Naima honestly thought that her Grandfather was over-reacting a little bit. Runi was young and he wanted to have a good time; that was all - what was so wrong about that? If Runi had been living in the States he would have been the quintessential playboy, work hard, play harder! As the Bon Jovi song went, _'Gonna live while I'm alive – I'll sleep when I'm dead!'_

Donna had to admit it was a lot of fun, and certainly a dramatic change of pace from her normal routine, but she had come on this holiday to relax. If she'd wanted to keep these types of hours, she could have stayed in DC – at least then she could have slept in her own bed.

Tomorrow was the Fourth of July. At home right about now, her parents would be starting the preparations for the next day's annual barbeque lunch of mammoth proportions. Her relatives from out of state would have turned up yesterday and her Dad would have been basting the ribs and steak since about midday… Then he'd get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to get the grill just right for cooking. After everyone had eaten themselves into a stupor and had a much needed nap, they would all head down to Potter's lake to sit and watch the fireworks over the water.

Donna felt bad that she wasn't going to be there, and had said so to her Mom when they'd spoken that morning. Marjorie had snorted good naturedly and asked when Donna had last been able to gethome for fourth of July? Usually she was up in DC working on something important. But it didn't feel the same, Donna had half choked, her eyes tearing up slightly. In DC, Donna at least knew that if push came to shove she was only a couple of hours away from home. Now she was at least fifteen. Donna admonished herself for her homesickness... this was stupid and apparently her Mom agreed. In the very next breath, Marjorie told her daughter to stop being a goose and get out there and enjoy herself. Donna had laughed. Her Mom always knew what to say when she needed to hear it.

The other reason Donna had called that morning, besides wanting to wish everyone back home a happy – though early – fourth, was to tell her parents about the trip she was making. Runi had come to see them yesterday and offered to take them on a four-day camel back camping expedition, so that they could, as he put it, "have the ultimate 'in-tents' experience". Both girls had groaned at the young man's exceptionally bad pun, but they'd liked the idea and had agreed enthusiastically. So it was settled – Runi was going to take Naima and Donna out for a four day trek to have the 'Bedouin Experience' before they left.

But, insisted Runi and Naima, that was for tomorrow. Tonight was about the partying… and the casino at the Marriott. So finally, reluctantly, Donna had agreed to go out with the party animals.

"How long do I have to get ready?" Donna asked with a sigh. All she really wanted was to settle back in bed for a quick read and an early night. But there was no dissuading the pair.

"We'll leave in about fifteen minutes," Runi had grinned at her.

Donna found herself grinning back. His smile was infectious – in fact it reminded her a bit of… _nope, not going there_, she thought, shaking her head at them as she headed upstairs to get ready.

"Oh – by the way, the Omar Khayyam is pretty high class, so you'll probably want to wear something… especially nice," Runi called after her.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" she heard Naima retort, her words followed closely by the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

"Ow! Naima!"

"Well stop being a jerk! What makes you think Donna won't dress… 'nice'? I've seen you watching her…." Their voices trailed off as Donna moved down the corridor towards her room and its private en-suite. It paid to have been in the diplomatic corps, apparently.

As Donna grabbed a refreshingly cool shower, she found herself replaying what Nai had just said to Runi… 'I've seen you watching her…' Donna smiled as the water ran over her face and hair. Runi might have a nice smile she supposed, but it was nothing compared to the all out assault that Josh could let rip with that infectious grin of his. Suddenly, the water temperature in the pipes seemed to change as a goose-bump creating shiver ran through Donna's body. Strange, because the pressure hadn't changed. Donna turned off the faucet and stepped out of the shower

So… what to wear? Runi had said the Casino was high class… so high class it would be. She pulled out the dress that she had bought for her ill fated date with Todd the insurance lobbyist two years ago. It was crimson red, reaching just to the tops of her knees, with shoe string straps and a deep plunging back. She fingered the dress lightly.

Drying herself quickly, Donna put aside the towel and slipped on her underwear. Sliding the dress down over her shoulders, she shivered as the satiny fabric flowed down her alabaster skin then turned and looked at herself in the mirror.

She smiled, remembering the look on Josh's face when he'd first registered the fact that she was wearing it. He'd been standing in the doorway of his office with his tie askew and his shirt sleeves rolled up the way that he preferred while he was working at his desk. As usual, his hair had that 'lived-in' look that it always seemed to have by the end of the day – the look of someone who had spent most of it either running their fingers through it, or wanting to pull it out by the roots. When it got like that she itched to finger comb it back into place.

She remembered how Josh had looked her up and down and had seemed genuinely surprised by her appearance. His eyebrows had retreated into his hairline as he told her she looked good. Of course, Josh being Josh, he'd put his foot in it by shooting his mouth off and saying some pretty hurtful things. It wasn't until Christmas that she'd realized that he hadn't necessarily known exactly what he was saying… A smile tugged at her lips.

She suddenly caught herself.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, Donna noticed that she was slightly flushed and that she was, for want of a better expression, glowing. She shook her head, annoyed with herself. She'd come on vacation to get away from Josh Lyman, and here she was, mooning over him like a schoolgirl, looking the way she did simply because she was thinking about him!

_Nice one Donna, put on one dress and you are going all gooey-eyed over your boss!_ She really needed to get a grip.

Donna tugged at the dress, which was stubbornly refusing to co-operate with her. The more she tried to get it off, the more it seemed to want to stay put. Turning away from the mirror in frustration at not being able to get the damned dress off now, Donna was in search of a good pair of scissors, when there was a perfunctory one knock at her door and Naima stepped in.

"Are you ready? Runi's getting anxious." Naima look her friend up and down. "Hubba-hubba-ding-dong-ding! My God, you look amazing Donna!

"Yeah, well, not for much longer…" Donna grunted. "Help me get this off."

"Why?"

"Because.."

"Just because?"

"Yes"

"Nope, not good enough sister…" Naima grabbed Donna by the hand and dragged her to the door. "We need a second opinion on this," she opened the door to reveal Runi leaning on the balustrade opposite her room.

"C'mon you two… the night's not getting any…." His voice trailed off as he took in Donna's appearance "…younger," he finished with a croak.

The frustration Donna had suddenly been feeling evaporated like dew on a hot summer's day. Runi's facial antics made her laugh. The poor boy was trying very hard to hide his emotions and was doing a dismally poor job of it. His face paled, then flushed within seconds and he swallowed hard a couple of times while his eyes bugged out of his head in astonishment.

Coughing a couple of times to clear his throat, he finally found his voice again.

"When I said ' something nice'… I had no idea!"

Donna beamed.

"You like it?"

"Oh, certainly I like it… And I know several others who'll 'like it' even more! Now, let's go!"

Runi negotiated the perilous streets of Cairo like a pro. Arriving safely at the grand entrance to the Marriott's Omar Khayyam Casino, Donna was overwhelmed by the majesty of it all. Its peaked arches seemed to go on for ever and the mosaic tiled walls seemed to move under the swirl of the casino lights. Women in vibrant almost diaphanous clothes moved between tables serving drinks to hundreds of gamblers at tables spread across at least an acre of floor space.

As the two girls stood gawping at the sight, Runi came to stand between them and placed an arm around each of their shoulders.

"Come on – I have some friends I want you to meet."

Runi lead them through the thronging masses, stopping occasionally to wave at a security guard or croupier. After a couple of minutes of weaving an intricate pattern across the brightly tiled and carpeted floors, Runi stopped outside a pair of plush velvet padded saloon doors.

"Behind these doors are some of the most influential people in this city. They are here to laugh, lay a few bets, meet other interesting people and have a good time. Shall we go in?"

Runi nodded to the guard on the door, and he reached forward and pushed it open for them. The opulence of the casino floor paled into insignificance at what greeted them behind these doors. The people lounging around the private gaming tables were dressed expensively, clearly comfortable amidst such luxury. It occurred to Donna to wonder briefly how Runi, a builder, could possibly have gotten in with such an exclusive crowd when she heard someone calling his name.

"Runi!"

All three of them turned to the left to see a man walking towards them with his arms spread open. He wore a Nehru collared black suit and although the gold chain displayed over it was rather pretentious, it was obvious that this man had money. He was about 6 feet tall, his complexion a deep bronze and he wore his hair long at the back, tied in a pony tail - possibly, Donna thought, suppressing a snort, to compensate for his balding forehead. This man could go hairline for hairline with Toby, and the sudden image which popped into her head, of Toby with a ponytail made her smile so widely, she thought her face would crack. Hastily fighting down a fit of the giggles, she noticed Naima giving her an odd look.

"Donna? You OK?"

Donna covered her mouth with one hand and waved the other from side to side in a universal 'I'm OK' gesture.

Meanwhile the man, who had enveloped Runi in a hug, broke away, asking:

"And who are your lovely friends?"

Donna's smile faded as she faced the newcomer.

"My name is Darius." He was softly spoken, his velvety-smooth voice bearing very little trace of an accent.

Donna took the hand he offered her and found herself unable to look away from his intense gaze.

"Uh… I'm…" Donna stammered, "Donna. Donna Moss."

Darius raised an enigmatic eyebrow at Runi. "You said your friends were attractive… you never said they were this stunning"

"Yes… Yes they are pretty stunning." Runi replied, his voice remarkably subdued.

Darius turned his attention to Naima and said something to her in Arabic. Naima blushed furiously and slapped his arm lightly before laughing. They bantered for a few moments more before Darius turned his attention back to Donna.

"Yes. Quite stunning." He looked her up and down appraisingly. It wasn't the most gentlemanly thing to do, but then again, the attention wasn't all that unwelcome. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her in an appreciative way – well a man other than… Donna realized Darius was speaking again.

"This is all too noisy for me." He glanced at his watch. "Shall we retire to my suite? You will find it much to your liking I am sure." He held out his hand palm up to indicate the way and offered his arm to Donna.

Donna smiled and linked her arm through his.

As they moved towards the elevators, Donna started to think that maybe coming out tonight hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

The following morning Donna awoke to a light tapping on her bedroom door. It was a struggle, but she managed to force her eyes open…

… to reveal it was indeed morning… or at least, the very beginnings of it.

Donna could tell from the light filtering in through her window, that it was sometime in those moments just before the sun rose for the day, when the night was beginning to fade and the sky had the color of forged steel that cast no shadows... Oh, certainly it sounded romantic… but the reality was… it was too damned early!

Donna rolled over and glanced at the sullen red glare of the LCD travel clock by her bed… 4.25am.

"Oh, my God", she groaned. She had only gotten to bed two hours ago.

After leaving the casino floor, Darius had taken them upstairs to a suite that was certainly worthy of the title 'presidential'. The view from the balcony was stunning to say the least, with a clear view along a good distance of the Nile and of Cairo beyond. She had stood there entranced for several minutes, before Darius appeared at her side and started pointing out various interesting locations and regaling her with snippets of information about the city's history.

All in all, Donna had found Darius to be a stimulating and engaging conversationalist. As the evening progressed, several of Runi and Darius' circle of friends joined them and Donna found herself circulating and discussing matters ranging from politics to which teams looked good in the next World Cup with a variety of young men and women. Nearly four years of accompanying her boss to various White House functions gave her a distinct advantage at this point.

The hours ticked on, the alcohol flowed, lively discussions were being had all over the room, and by the look of it there were a number of other …entertainments being provided that Donna thought she had better steer clear of. By about midnight, Donna had started to feel a little tipsy. She'd drunk a little bit more than she'd intended to and the room had begun to sway slightly. Retreating to the bathroom to throw some water on her face, she'd overheard part of a quiet conversation taking place in the adjoining bedroom. Two men were discussing the price of something, and even though her mind was a bit hazy, she was sure the voices belonged to Darius and Runi. Whatever Darius was offering, Runi was unhappy about the price.

The party had finally broken up around one, with the partygoers making their farewells and leaving in various stages of inebriation. Donna had finally said goodnight to the others and thanked them for a wonderful time, crawling under her covers just before two. She vaguely recalled Runi saying something about their needing to be on their way early the following morning …

Now in the predawn, as the volume of the tapping intensified, Donna realized that her concept of early differed wildly from Runi's.

The tapping stopped and a quiet voice replaced it.

"Donna, you up?"

"Urrgghmph," she groaned, kicking back the light sheet that covered her as she rolled out of bed. Shuffling to the door, she opened it a crack to reveal Runi on the other side, a toothy grin foolishly adorning his face.

"Good morning."

Donna glared at him.

"We leave in twenty minutes."

Donna's eyebrows sought the shelter of her hairline.

"Twenty minutes?" she winced.

"Yuh-ha," Runi rubbed his hands together, continuing to grin foolishly.

"For the love of… pretty much anything…" she yawned, "why so early?"

"Do you really want to be traveling on camelback in the middle of the day with your complexion?"

He had a point. Even SPF 400 wouldn't do her much good without shade – regardless of the time of day.

Donna grunted again and turned back into her room.

"Twenty minutes!" he called, as the door shut in his face.

Donna had done the sensible thing and had packed her bags the day before. She hadn't wanted to be packing at the last minute last night… not that that would have been an option after their little party. So all she really needed to do was to have a shower and get changed.

Donna had just started to run the water when a sudden tremendous bang echoed through the walls followed by the sound of a raised female voice. Apparently, Naima had just gotten her wake up call too. Donna smiled and stepped into the shower.

Exactly twenty minutes later, Donna was downstairs in the foyer of Hakim's home. She turned as Naima came stomping down the stairs ahead of her cousin, complaining loudly.

"Why the hell do we have to leave so early?"

"Because, cousin mine, like I told Donna – do you really want to be traveling in the heat of the midday sun? This way we get to the camp before the full heat hits."

"You know what I think?"

"No. Do tell us."

"I think that you're doing this just because you can, and because you know that getting up this early in the morning drives me stark raving mad!"

"Nai, I haven't seen you in… what?... eight years? How would I know that makes you mad?"

"Because you are an insidiously evil little man who would take great joy in extracting that kind of information from my mother just to make my life a living hell!"

"Ah Nai, Nai, Nai…" He tapped her on the tip of her nose. "How well you know me."

Spitting out what Donna could only assume to be a swear word, Naima swung her arm out wildly at her cousin.

Runi laughed and hopped out of her way before spotting Donna sitting on one of the divans.

"See, Donna can make it without a fuss."

"Yes but Donna has a boss who tends to wake her up at all hours after she's had, like, three hours sleep!"

"He does not," Donna retorted, jumping automatically to Josh's defense. "OK, yes there is the occasional late night, and the sometimes the odd early morning…" her words trailed off at the look on Naima's face.

"Donna, the last two times I visited you in DC, you worked past midnight on nine out of the fourteen days that I was there, four of them were weekends, and then there were those two unholy three am calls when you had to get your sorry ass into work!"

Donna winced. "I suppose you're right, but… Nai… one of those times was in the middle of getting ready for a State of the Union, and the other… well… I can't tell you what that was about, but trust me when I say it was big. Josh doesn't do this to me randomly. He's really usually quite… sweet… when we have a… thing."

Naima and Runi shared a look.

"A _thing_?" Runi asked, a sly grin creeping across his face. "You and your boss?"

Donna caught the implication immediately.

"Oh… God… No! Nothing like that… I mean, Josh is my friend. Nai, tell him.. you met Josh." Donna looked pleadingly to her friend for support

"Yes, I did." Naima developed a smirk of her own.

"Nai!"

Naima threw up her hands and grinned suggestively

"I'm just sayin', if _I_ had a boss who looked like that, I'd be wanting to work late too!"

"Oh my God!" Donna said to no one in particular. "I can't believe I'm hearing this!"

"Seriously, Donna. When was the last time you had those eyes checked? Girl Scout truth, cuteness alert with a capital 'cute'."

Donna glared at Naima and turned her attention to Runi.

"Are we going yet?"

"Ready when you are."

"Good - let's get going before she has me a mother of two and settling in the suburbs."

Donna hefted her backpack up over her shoulder as Runi opened the front door.

But Naima had got the bit between her teeth and wasn't going to let the subject drop. She was still speaking as Donna walked out into the narrow street.

"C'mon, Donna – you can't tell me you haven't checked out that ass of his, _especially_ when he's wearing those jeans! I know I did and I'd only known him for what… a total of about five minutes!"

Donna ground her teeth as she waited for Runi to open the trunk of his car.

"Will you shut up?" She finally growled as she tossed her bag inside.

Naima apparently realized she'd stumbled onto something, and wasn't ready to let it go just yet. Donna could normally give as good as she got, but for some reason, this particular line of teasing had thrown her off her game. Still, Naima kept digging.

"I mean, that guy walks into a room and chairs beg!"

"NAIMA!"

Naima's laugh was like a peal of bells. She was about to say something else, when a shutter from one of the houses opposite flew open and a very disheveled man stuck his head out the window, yelling something down to the street. Donna didn't speak Arabic, but some languages were universal.

Runi replied calmly, and whatever he said obviously placated the man who slammed the shutter closed with a bang.

"Right, let me get you two out of here before we're done for disturbing the peace!"

Loaded up, they headed for Ramses station where they would board the early train from Cairo to the North East. On arrival, they would meet up with their guides and pick up their transportation for the rest of the trip.

Even at this early hour, Cairo was a city bustling with activity. Most of the early morning traffic was made up of men driving little white vans or taxis – people who drove for a living, who clearly thought they owned the roads, given their erratic styles of driving. Staring absently out of the window, Donna found it quite depressing… as well as somewhat worrying.

"_I'm thinking of firing you."_

Donna turned her head to look at Runi in the driver's seat.

"I'm sorry?"

"What?"

"What did you just say?"

"I didn't say anything." He looked puzzled.

"Oh…." Donna turned back to the window again, absorbed once more in the passing traffic. "nothing…"

Naima leant over between the front seats.

"She's thinking about 'Hotty-McBossy' again."

"Nai…" Donna groaned. "Don't start that again." Knowing she was beginning to blush furiously, Donna refused to look at her friend. Naima had caught her off guard with her comments about Josh.

Naima thought he was hot.

Josh! Donna snorted inwardly. Well, she could see how a bunch of hormonally imbalanced teenage girls might find him vaguely attractive, but Naima was her own age! She should have that under control by now. And if not, Donna could recommend some nice HRT medication that her mother used.

If Josh were here he'd be lapping it up Donna thought, rolling her eyes. She could just see Josh going for someone like Naima; she was a typical Lyman date - dark haired, dark eyed, with the predatory skills of a lioness in season… Donna felt the bitter tang of her unspoken words in her mouth.

Oh God! One passing, jovial comment by one of her best friends and she was ready to turn on her in a 'single white female' type of way.

Why should she care if Naima thought Josh was hot?

Why should she care if Naima had quite rightly spotted that Josh really did have the cutest butt in professional politics?

Why should she care if Naima thought that he was adorable when he was unsure of himself?

Why should she care if Naima wanted nothing more than to hold him close when he was hurting?

Why should she…be thinking these things at all? Donna's eyes widened with shock as she realized that Naima had never mentioned half of what had just been going through her mind.

You came on this damned trip to get away from him, remember? she told herself irritably. Besides… he's with Amy.

_Is he? She lost her job because of him._

Yeah, but he still went back to her afterwards.

_But that was just to clear things up and get his stuff right?_

Yeah, but he still went back….

_Oh look… we're crossing de'nile!_

She didn't have a comeback for that one.

Donna hated it when she lost an argument… she hated it even more when she lost one with herself!

Before her over enthusiastic imagination could run anywhere else with that line of thought, Runi glanced over at her.

"So quiet. You OK?"

"Sure," she lied. "I was just thinking about… how amazing this trip has been so far."

"Well you ain't seen nothin' yet," Runi grinned. "Hey, we're here!"

Runi found a space in the station's long-term car park, and they all piled out of the car.

"I'll go get our tickets and meet you over on the platform, OK?

Donna and Naima nodded, pulled their bags from the trunk of the car and walked across the carpark towards the platforms in silence.

"Look. Donna, I'm sorry about before." Naima apologized. "You know I was just having fun."

Donna knew that her smile was a little more forced than she would have liked.

"Yeah, 'course you were. It was like the time we teased you about Pete Robson."

"Oh, you would bring him up!"

Donna batted her eyelids, glad to change the subject.

"Hey – a girl's has to get her own back sometimes."

They looked at each other and laughed.

"Hey!" Runi called, jogging over to meet them, backpack slung over one shoulder, holding a tray of styrofoam cups. Precariously, he held up an envelope and Donna watched as the tray containing the drinks started to tilt. Naima came to her cousin's rescue and relieved him of it.

"Thanks," he sighed in relief. "Here we go, three first class tickets … though I can't really vouch for first class here living up to the exceptionally high standards of Air Force One! Does that plane really have an operating theater?"

Donna's reply was drowned out by the chugging of the Diesel Electric locomotive that crunched to a halt next to them.

Runi made a mock bow. "Our ride, ladies."

The three intrepid travelers clambered up into the First Class carriage of the train.

Runi was right. First Class wasn't the same everywhere. But Donna couldn't complain. It was entirely her own fault that she had a job that meant she got to travel in the lap of luxury.

They jostled their way down the narrow corridor until they found a vacant compartment. Runi dumped his bags into the overhead luggage rack, relieved Naima of the drink tray and sat down so she could do the same. Naima rather unceremoniously hefted her bag up next to Runi's and flopped down next to her cousin, bouncing the seat.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, trying not to spill the drinks. "Klutz, much?" He glared at her. "Well – we made it! It should take us about half a day to get to the way station where we'll meet our guide". Runi leant over and handed Donna one of the cups. "Here, I thought you girls might like some tea, since I dragged you out of bed so early."

Donna took the cup without hesitation as Naima did the same. As she lifted the lid, the spicy aromatic scent of the tea floated up to her. Taking a sip, she found it had an almost fruity flavor to it.

"Wow, this is really good!"

"Local speciality." Runi said, grinning over the top of his own cup at her.

They sat and talked while they sipped their tea, Donna and Naima regaling Runi with stories from their childhood.

"Do you remember the time you stumped Old Grumblebum?" Naima laughed at one point in the conversation.

"Grumblebum?" Runi looked puzzled.

"Yeah, we had a social sciences teacher in our final year called Mr Grundleman. We all called him "Grumblebum". Damn he was a surly old dog! Anyway, he had this opinion that anyone with blonde hair was as brainless as the day is long. So one day, Donna decided to play him at his own game."

"Oh – sounds fun… go on."

"Grumblebum had been going on about… something… to be honest, I can't remember what the hell we were supposed to be learning, 'cause for most of the lesson Donna had been sitting there like an airhead. I was half expecting her to come out with a 'D'ha' or 'what _ever_' at one point. Anyway we finally got to the question. 'Does anyone know what the case of Roe versus Wade was about?' Now everyone knew, but no one wanted to answer… it was final period on the Friday before spring break… You can guess how attentive we were. Suddenly little Miss Perky over there shoots her hand up and says…" Naima gestured to Donna to take over the story.

"That was the decision George Washington had to make before he crossed the Delaware!" She finished off in her most brainless tone possible.

Runi, who had just taken a sip of his tea, snorted the contents back into the cup. Glancing between the two young women he grinned.

"You didn't?"

"Oh she did!"

"Nice!"

"Gr… grr... Grrumblebum left her alone after that!" Naima yawned, glanced down at her watch and yawned again. "Well… if we're going to be here for the next couple of hours, I might as well try and catch up on the sleep that you evilly deprived me of." Rolling her sweater up into a ball and propping it up against the top of the seat, she nestled down against it.

"Good idea." Runi yawned himself. "I might just have to join you."

Donna caught herself yawning too… Damn it! They were right. It was contagious.

Donna folded up her own sweater and propped it into the corner of the seat near the window. Tilting her head to get comfortable, she sighed and watched the scenery slip by.

"Donna?" Runi asked softly, not wanting to disturb the already snoring Naima. "Before, when Nai was teasing you about your boss? You know she was kidding right?"

"Sure."

"Is he a good boss?"

She smiled, still intent on looking at the scenery.

"Yes. He's…" she felt her throat constrict as she suddenly felt a pang of longing. She may have come on this trip to give herself some space, to try to get a fresh perspective on her… relationship with Josh, but she couldn't help it – she missed him. "…the best."

"Oh." Runi flashed her a rueful smile. "That's nice to know."

She glanced over at Runi and shot him a watery smile back, before leaning into her sweater and closing her eyes.

She sat there in silence for a little while, head tilted into the softness of the sweater at her ear, when a faint whiff of something familiar made her smile. She recognized the scent immediately – Josh's cologne. Where had that come from? Adjusting the sweater she realized that somehow, in her packing, she had managed to accidentally grab the Harvard sweater she had borrowed from Josh one evening back in DC. She'd meant to return it, but for some unknown reason she had brought it with her. She would give it back to him when she got home. As the Cairo skyline grew further away, Donna felt her eyelids drooping, the muffled noise of the engine and the gentle sway of the carriage rocking her towards sleep. The last picture in her mind's eye before she drifted off to sleep was of Josh, perched precariously atop an arm chair in his office, trying valiantly to pull out one of the bottom files.

Naima was right. He did look good in jeans.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Friday July 5, 2002. Cairo – 5.49pm local time**

Danny Concannon loved his job. As a reporter, he'd been given opportunities to experience the best the world had to offer, and the worst. He had seen some of the planet's most amazing sights, been witness to events that shaped nations and met some of the most wonderful, interesting and dedicated people from pole to pole and all points between. But unfortunately, like Newton's Third Law, for every high there was a low and Danny had discovered over the years that for every moment of beauty and amazement, there was a corresponding moment of horror and gut twisting degradation. Laws of physics or not, Danny usually found in that in these cases, the bad vastly outweighed the good.

The story he was working on now, sadly, fell firmly in the latter. As much as he loved the political intrigue and bickering that went on in DC, where a good writer could find himself hip deep in scandal eight to ten months of the year, there came a time every now and then, when he wanted to flex his journalistic muscles and get back in the real game. So when the opportunity to follow up on a story out of the Post's Middle Eastern desk came Danny's way, he'd grabbed it with both hands and requested a sabbatical from the White House press corps.

For years, people in western society had lived under the impression that slavery was a thing of the past; a dim distant reminder of an uncivilized moment in human history. History was dotted with the images of generations of African born men, women and children being subjected to horror and torment at the hands of their white owners. Images that should never be forgotten or ignored, but understood and learned from.

Danny however, knew too well that not only was the slave trade very much alive, but that it had taken on a newer and more sinister form. For some time now, reports had been coming out of places such as Africa, the Middle East, Asia and parts of central Europe which pointed to the fact that the slave trade was far from extinct. It appeared that there was still a very profitable trade dealing in human flesh that was not only very much alive, but was turning a handsome profit for the willing 'investor'.

Danny had of course been well aware of the fact that it was not uncommon for entire generations of families, in places such as Africa, finding themselves 'bonded' into enslaved to loan sharks in order to survive – forced to work off debts at they could never hope to repay.

This type of slavery, ironically, was the lesser of two evils.

The more insidious form of slavery dealt with pleasures of the flesh. Again, usually as a result of abject poverty, it was not unusual for young women, and sometimes young men, to be sold into forced prostitution. These women… no girls… for Danny had found evidence that some were as young as nine… would be taken from or sold by their families and then sold as property to whoever could pay the price. They were routinely subjected to beatings bordering on torture and were often passed around as play things. Danny heard of stories of "swap meets" where prospective buyers came to view the 'merchandise' the pimps had to offer. It was these pimps and buyers that Danny was aiming to expose.

The revulsion that Danny felt for this whole situation was what drove him the hardest. He'd been on the trail of a particular party of 'traders' who had been operating for several years in and around the Cairo area. The authorities did everything in their power to stamp the trade out, but there were too many people involved, and too much money passing into the hands of people all too willing to look the other way, for them to have any real success. As soon as one ring was stamped out, another would pop up. Danny wanted to get cold hard facts and tell the world what type of people attended these swap meets. Rumor had it that some of them were pretty well known and connected, and if Danny could get information on just one of them, then he hoped he'd be able to connect enough dots to get one or more of the rings to collapse like the proverbial house of cards.

The sun was setting in Cairo and the day was drawing to a close. Danny had been stuck in his office for most of the day, waiting for some information that one of his street contacts was supposed to be gathering for his local liaison, Ahmed. Two days ago, Danny had gotten wind that there was to be a big sale coming up in the next few days somewhere here in Cairo and Ahmed was trying to get particulars. If Danny could get into the game, so to speak, he could get the hard evidence he needed to pull his story together.

_God, it's hot!_ Danny thought in passing. Even with his air conditioner running full tilt he knew his face was as red as his mop of hair which was now plastered against his scalp anyway. That was the one downside to this area of journalism… the creature comforts sucked! Danny was about to get himself a cold drink when the door to the office opened, revealing a man in his early twenties on the other side. His smile was one of triumph.

Ahmed had been assigned as Danny's assistant when he had first arrived in Cairo. Barely in his twenties Ahmed had a remarkable list of contacts and street smarts. He had proven to be good fun to be around, and even better yet, a dedicated and willing assistant who didn't mind doing the grunt work that went hand in glove with investigative journalism. The less time that Danny had to be out in the scorching desert sun, the better!

"Danny!" he said, in his only slightly accented English. "Pay dirt!"

The young man slapped a bulging manila envelope down in front of Danny.

"Whatcha got for me Ahmed?"

"Total package. Initial contact, Dates, times, price list and photos of the merchandise!"

"Ahmed -" Danny cautioned. He really didn't like thinking of these girls as 'merchandise'.

"Sorry… victims."

"Better," Danny replied automatically as he tore open the envelope and studied the contents.

"You need me for anything else?"

Danny looked up absently.

"No."

"OK." Ahmed said stepping out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Well, he would say one thing for these bastards; they certainly knew how to put on a show. The paperwork before him could have been the stock portfolio report of any of the "big ten" companies back in the States. It was like looking at a prospectus. Which in a macabre sort of sense it was.

Danny flicked through the document, pages and pages of agonizingly frightened faces staring out at him. He paused on several occasions to note down a fact about the young life that was detailed in front of him. Most of the girls were somewhere between the ages of 16 and 19, but the spectrum did run up to women in their thirties. What Danny found truly repulsive, however, was the startling number of underage girls, some as young as ten, listed amongst them. He noted comments made about the temperament or physical attributes of the girls. _"Good housekeeper"_ it said about one of the older girls. "_Bears sons_" it read next to the face of a woman listed as being 24, her face looking more weary than scared. _"Well broken in,"_ read another. God only knows how they did that – and Danny really didn't want to know.

As Danny moved deeper into the booklet, one face caught his attention immediately. At first, it had been the simple contrast between her coloring and that of the other nameless faces he had seen that had struck him. The owner of this face had naturally blonde hair, unlike the browns, blacks and occasional bleach job of the other girls. At first Danny's brain refused to register what he was seeing. He tried to reason; it had to be a mistake. He very carefully put the open booklet down on his desk, braced his hands on either side of it and stood up slowly. Maybe if he put some distance between himself and the page the picture would change; maybe he was just imagining things; maybe he hadn't been getting enough sleep and his mind was playing tricks on him. But the longer he stared at the pair of anguished blue eyes that seemed to be looking back at him pleadingly, the more he felt like a mule had kicked him in the gut. It wasn't a figment of his imagination. It really was her... But how the hell had she ended up there?

Danny reached automatically into his bag for his cell phone. _Where the hell was it?_ Quickly scanning the pockets of his satchel, Danny realized, with mounting frustration, that he must have left it at the hotel that morning.

Along, apparently, with his diary.

_Blast!_ All his numbers were in that damned thing.

"AHMED!" Danny bellowed at the top of his lungs. The door to his office flew open and Ahmed stood stunned in the doorway.

"Yeah?" confusion at Danny's roar showed clearly on his face.

"Get me a connection to the Stateside office now! This is urgent!."

Ahmed, saw the anger flash in Danny's eyes and dialed the international operator immediately. Within minutes, Danny was talking to his researcher in Washington

"Dave? It's Danny…"

"Hey, Danny! Got any news for the boss?" Dave's asked, his voice upbeat.

"No - I don't have the story yet…"

"Losing your touch there, Dannyman! Time was, you could crack a story like this in five days..."

"Look," Danny scratched his head, impatiently. "Shut up and listen – I need you to patch me through to CJ – her or Carol. It's urgent."

The tone in Danny's voice was not lost on the younger man.

"Sure, Danny - hang on."

"C'mon, c'mon!" Danny muttered under his breath, as the seconds ticked by excruciatingly slowly.

The "on-hold" music changed briefly to a dial tone and then a female voice answered.

"Press office, Carol speaking."

"Carol, it's Danny."

"Hey Danny! Are you..?"

Danny didn't give her time to finish.

"Carol, look - can you transfer me to Josh please? I would have called him myself but I don't have his direct number…"

"I can, but…"

"Please?" Danny's voice caught in his throat. "This is important."

"OK," Carol replied, her voice suddenly soft. "Hang on." And Danny was back on the hold again.

Cradling the phone on his shoulder, Danny slapped the offending page down on the glass of his flatbed scanner and hit scan. While he waited he opened up a new e-mail message and typed in an address so that it would be ready to send as soon as the scan was finished - joshua.lymanwhitehouse.gov

"Danny?" Josh sounded suitably surprised.

Danny's head jerked up and he caught the phone deftly as it slid from his shoulder. "Is Donna at the West Wing?" he blurted without any preamble.

"I'm sorry?"

"Is Donna at the West Wing?"

"No - sorry buddy, she's on two weeks leave," Josh replied as if it were common knowledge.

"Did she go anywhere?"

"Why?" Josh drawled, suspicion lacing his words

_Damn it Josh_, Danny thought, _this is _not_ the time to get cagey with me_!

"Look, trust me when I say I just need to know, OK? Did she say if she was planning to go anywhere?" Danny knew he was starting to sound a little panicked.

"Whoa! Danny, calm down. If you need to know so badly – yes, she did have plans; she was going to…"

_Please, God don't let the answer be…_

"Cairo. And I don't mind telling you…" Josh started to complain

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit_… Danny's last hope had just crumbled.

"Danny?"

_Damn – he must've said that out loud._

"Danny? You OK?" Now Josh's voice was full of concern.

"Josh - did CJ tell you what story I'm working on?"

"She may have mentioned it. What's that..?"

"Check your e-mail. I'm sending one to you now."

"Danny, I…." Now Josh sounded really confused.

"I'll see you soon, OK?" Danny stated simply, guessing what Josh's reaction to the e-mail was going to be. "I'm staying at the Grand Marriott in Cairo."

"Danny?" Without waiting for Josh to finish, Danny hung up and went back to staring at his laptop.

"Oh God, what the hell are we going to do?" he said to himself as he looked at the beautiful, but terrified face of Donna Moss.


	4. Chapter 4

**Friday, July 5 2002, Washington 10:53am (EST)**

Josh sat staring at the receiver long after the line had died ending his and Danny's conversation.

"That was weird," he said to himself.

Something wasn't right. Josh sat back in his chair, not taking his eyes off the phone and replayed the brief conversation in his head. Danny had sounded… nervous; there'd been a strain in his voice that normally wasn't there.

Danny Concannon was as professional as they came, one of the best in the business. Josh had known him since their time at Harvard and in fact, it had been Josh who'd backed Danny when he'd asked to join the press pool for the president's first campaign. With the possible exception of Ron Butterfield, Danny was the most unflappable guy Josh knew – hell, he'd won his Pulitzer Prize for an article he'd written under gunfire in Sarajevo. Josh couldn't remember ever having heard Danny sound so… so… spooked about anything before. For him to have sounded like he just did... something pretty monumental had to have happened.

Josh just sat there for a moment, trying to process what had been said, wondering what on earth Donna's travel plans could have to do with anything? Why had Danny been asking about Donna anyway? How did he know that there was even a possibility that she might not be at the White House?

_He could have spoken to CJ I guess_, the reasonable part of his brain thought

No… Something was niggling at the back of his mind. He started remembering snippets of conversations, things that people had said in passing over the last couple of weeks. CJ, talking about her latest e-mail from Danny and the new assignment he was working on. He remembered that Amy had gotten really excited about the news when he'd mentioned it to her, and had been glad that 'someone with Danny's brains was looking into it'. It had something to do with Qumar… Damn it! Why couldn't the voices stay still long enough for him to focus on them one at a time? And why had Danny been acting so strangely?

Then it hit him… he remembered what Danny's assignment had been.

Danny was in the Middle East chasing a flesh trade story…

Danny was flustered…

Danny was asking about Donna's whereabouts…

An unreasoning fear started creeping through him as Josh started piecing the information together leaving only a cold icy feeling settling uneasily in the pit of his stomach.

_E-mail! Danny had said he was sending an e-mail._

Josh pulled himself over to the computer and punched in his password. The screen flared to life and the mail icon flashed balefully down from its usual place in the task bar. Almost fumbling with the mouse Josh clicked his account open. There – at the top of his 'personal' folder was Danny's rush job. Opening the e-mail he found a cryptic message – just a date and a time - July 10, 2002, 1900 hours – and an attachment. Danny had certainly been in a hurry when he'd sent this.

Josh's breathing quickened as his finger clicked the mouse to open the attached image. He didn't know exactly what it was he was expecting when he opened the document, but nothing could have prepared him for this. Confronted by the image that Danny had sent him, Josh felt as though all the breath had been knocked out of his body. He couldn't believe what he was seeing – it had to be a mistake surely? Of course he would know that face anywhere – he could be three months dead and if someone put that photo in front of him he would rise up from the grave to look at it – but it couldn't be her… could it?

Every instinct in his body was telling him to focus on the image alone, but Josh knew it wouldn't give him the answers he needed. Tearing his eyes away from her face he systematically analyzed every other detail on the page. Only when that was done would he allow himself to turn back to the photo.

It was obviously a page from booklet of some kind; Josh could see the shadowing on the leading edge of the page where Danny had folded the rest of the pages back to get it onto the scanner. Bizarrely, Josh noted that the scan was of remarkably good quality, the silvery-blue border on the page indicating that it was metallically embossed around the edges. He could also tell that the paper was of excellent quality – it had a linen, or parchment look to it and he could make out the watermarking clearly in the image. The type-font was clean and crisp, so it hadn't been produced by an inkjet printer or something along those lines. No; this was quality workmanship.

Josh knew exactly what his brain was trying to do – that analyzing the printing stock was a delaying tactic – but anxious as he was to read the information on the page, part of him wanted to avoid it for as long as possible because of what it might say. Sucking in a deep breath and swallowing hard, Josh turned his eyes to the foreboding black letters.

There was very little in the way of writing on the page. Above the photo was a simple statement:

_Lot 112_

_Caucasian American Female_

_Starting price – To be negotiated_

Josh's eyes skipped quickly past the image, he couldn't face it until he knew what else was on that page….

Underneath the photo was a short paragraph.

_Physical Description_

_Age: 28_

_Height: 5'10"; Weight 125 lb_

_No Tattoos, Piercing – Ear lobes x1, no physical deformities_….

No physical deformities? Josh's felt like his heart was suddenly lodged in the back of his throat. He was wondering how the hell whoever was responsible for this could possibly know that information, when the next line made him call out involuntarily.

_Not a virgin…._

Josh stared at the line, and instantly called upon every ounce of self control he had to stop himself from even thinking about how they'd gotten that piece of information

He felt the muscles in his right arm start to twitch, and realized belatedly that he was squeezing the life out of the mouse. Slowly and deliberately Josh removed his hand and clenched both his fists before flexing his hands and running them over his face. A few more lines… there were only a few more lines to read. Attempting to slow his rapidly increasing heart rate down with a few deep breaths, Josh steadied himself to read the final paragraph.

_Background:_

_This lot is a recent acquisition. She is highly intelligent, quick minded and spirited, though currently not suitable for a working house - she would require 're-education' before suitability for outside clientele. This item would suit a stronger party who wished to shape her in accordance with their needs_.

No sound escaped Josh's lips this time. This time it was a much more violent reaction. He barely had time to grab for his waste paper bin, before his stomach rebelled expelling the meager breakfast he had eaten a few hours earlier. Josh was pale and shaking when the retching finally stopped, his muscles spasmodically twitching as he picked up the bottle of water from his desk and took a deep swig, his eyes slowly closing.

_Re-educate…. Shape her… their needs_

It had to be a mistake… it just had to…. The face on the screen couldn't be her… it was some sort of sick twisted joke that Donna and Danny had cooked up together to torment him. Josh tried valiantly to reason away the image on his screen. Anything…. anything!

As Josh sat there, his eyes still closed, his mind raced to the worst possible conclusions.

"_Sell my farm-girl ass for a carton of Luckys"_

A year ago it had been a joke. A year ago, he'd chuckled as he watched her unspool in front of him. But one year on… that simple phrase took on an entirely different meaning.

His eyes snapped opened and landed on the picture that Danny had sent him. The picture of Donnatella Moss.

His Donnatella.

"_I'm staying at the Grand Marriott in Cairo"._ Danny had said._ "I'll see you soon okay?"_

Damn straight he would.

Anger suddenly replaced the fear in Josh's veins. Fire replaced the chill and his blood boiled with a fury that he usually only reserved for high ranking members of the Republican Party.

Closing the mail window he hit the forward icon and typed his private email address into the 'To' box and hit send. That done, he deleted the original e-mail from the system and quickly set about gathering up various personal effects from his desk and jamming them into his messenger bag along with his laptop.

Hastily scribbling a note, Josh stuffed it into an envelope and stepped out into the bullpen, his eyes falling instantly on Donna's desk, where a young, redheaded temp was courageously attempting to organize his schedule for the next week.

"I'm out for the rest of the day," Josh stated abruptly as he

walked into the cubicle behind her.

The young woman gave a startled 'squeak' and jumped involuntarily at the sound of his voice before turning swiftly to face him.

"Leo McGarry needs to see that some time this afternoon, before his four o'clock briefing with the President." Josh stated as, handing her the envelope, he headed towards the northwest lobby doors.

The girl nodded vigorously and then sighed with relief as the Deputy Chief of Staff walked out of the door. She'd heard rumors about Mr Lyman before she'd started temping here – he went through temps like a hot knife through butter; he was unreasonable; he was demanding; he yelled… he was just like her uncle's hunting dog… but twice as scary.

Josh quickly made his way across the staff parking lot to his car. A few people waved, nodded or called his name as he stormed towards them, then, realizing that he was indeed 'storming', suddenly changed direction to allow him to progress with out further interruption. Josh Lyman was not someone you wanted to engage when he was in a bad mood.

Flashing his pass at the guard at the gate on the way out, Josh wove his way through the mid-morning traffic back to his apartment in Georgetown.

Five minutes of teeth grinding traffic later he was home. Nearly clipping the wing mirror of his car when the undercroft parking gate didn't open quickly enough, Josh swung into his allocated space and jumped out.

"Joshua?" A woman's voice, echoing in the cavernous undercroft, called out.

Startled Josh spun around on the spot to see his neighbor coming towards him. A woman of immense presence in her early sixties, Josh often joked that if Congress thought dealing with him was difficult, God help them if Barbara Farraday ever took over his job.

"What are you doing home at this time on a Thursday, Joshua? Are you ill?"

It wasn't that she was nosy, but Mrs Farraday always looked out for her friends and neighbors. She had been a great support to Donna during Josh's convalescence after Rosslyn and his mother, he recalled, had struck up a friendly association with her - far too friendly as far as he was concerned. Now he suspected that not only was his mom getting regular updates on his condition from Donna, she was getting them from Mrs Farraday as well.

"No, nothing's wrong Mrs F," Josh lied through his teeth by keeping his voice light. "I've just been called away for a trip at short notice and I needed to come back and get some stuff together."

"Oooh, somewhere exotic I hope," she replied with a grin.

"You could say that," Josh smiled back. "Sorry, but I've got a plane to catch…" he gestured with his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the stairwell.

"Oh, go, go Josh!" She shooed him off. "Have fun, and stay out of trouble!"

"No chance of that!" It sounded like a joke to his own ears, but in reality, he was pretty sure that trouble was already well aware he was coming.


	5. Chapter 5

******Chapter 5 **

******Friday July 5, 2002. Washington DC – 11.00am EST.**

Josh took the stairs up to his third floor apartment two at a time and arrived at his door a little winded. His head was pounding and as he fumbled with his keys, he swore softly to himself – why was it that the simplest thing, such as finding the key for the front door, became so difficult when you were in a hurry? Finally getting the door unlocked, Josh entered his apartment and shucked his bag onto the couch as he headed for the bedroom, picking up his phone from its stand en route. He had calls to make, the first being the most important.

The jingle from the travel agent's ad came unbidden to Josh's mind. For once, the annoying tunes and catchy slogans that normally drove him up the wall were working to his advantage. Dialing the free call number with one hand, he started to pull off his tie with the other. Josh prayed that he would be able to get a flight today – he really didn't relish the thought of having to face Leo after… whatever her name was… gave him the note he'd left.

Why wasn't he telling Leo himself? He would want to help, wouldn't he? Yes, of course he would… there was no doubt in Josh's mind about that, but would Leo let him go to Egypt? Unlikely. And Josh needed to go – sitting around Washington waiting for news from halfway across the world just wasn't something he was prepared to accept.

Josh was so engaged in his own thoughts that he was didn't notice at first that his call had been connected. He didn't hear the chipper voice of the young woman at the end of line until she had repeated her company name again.

"I'm sorry?" He said, caught by surprise.

Walking into his spare bedroom Josh flicked on the light of the walk in closet, tucked the phone into his shoulder, and started rummaging around until he grabbed hold of the handle of his small suitcase and dragged it out – again. He had only unpacked the damn thing this morning.

"How can I assist you with your travel needs today?"

He took the suitcase into his own room and dumped it open on the bed.

"Umm… yeah, I need a flight from Washington to Cairo."

"When were you looking at traveling sir?"

"As soon as possible."

"Certainly sir, please bear with me while I check what is available."

Listening to the sound of a keyboard being tapped at the other end of the line, Josh toed off his shoes and took off his pants, lobbing them in the direction of the ever increasing pile of dirty laundry in the corner. Extracting a pair of jeans from the pile of clean clothes strewn haphazardly on the armchair by the window, he hopped from side to side as he pulled them on.

"Could I have some details, sir? How many in your party?"

Balancing the phone on one shoulder, and hopping from side to side, Josh pulled the faded jeans on.

"One."

"Thank you. One moment, sir."

Whilst he was waiting, Josh took the opportunity to continue getting changed. Deftly he undid the buttons on his dress shirt with one hand, while rummaging around in his night stand for some Tylanol with the other. Downing two with the half a glass of water that remained from the previous night, Josh stripped off his shirt and added it to the pile of laundry, his undershirt following in quick succession. Glancing around the room, he spied a clean Wesleyan t-shirt poking out of the chest of draws by his bed, plucked it out and pulled it on.

"First Class, Business or Coach?"

"Don't care." The sound was muffled by the shirt slipping over his head.

"I'm sorry, sir – what was that?"

"I don't care." Josh looked around for his boots

"Would this be a return ticket?"

Josh thought for a moment. He had no idea how this was going to turn out, so he couldn't set a return date.

"Yeah, but make it open ended, could you?"

The faint tapping of the keyboard continued at the other end of the line as the young operator attempted to find Josh what he wanted.

"Here we go, sir. I can put you on a Delta flight from Reagan at 13.30, arriving at JFK at 14.38."

Josh checked his watch. That would be cutting it a bit fine – he still had to finish packing and then get to the airport.

"And that connects directly with a flight to Cairo?"

"Yes, sir, it does with a 45 minute layover in New York."

Josh winced; that didn't leave much room for movement if there were any delays.

"When's the next available flight after that?" he asked.

"The next Egyptair doesn't depart JFK international until 23.30 this evening."

That clinched it. The later flight would leave him sitting either here or in New York for at least seven hours, which would be more than enough time for Leo to get a handle on his whereabouts. He didn't like to try and second guess his boss, and he certainly didn't like the thought of second guessing the president, but if they got involved it would become a…. well, a thing and they would have no hesitation in sending in the secret service to frog march him back home like a schoolboy playing hooky.

"Ahkay. The earlier flight'll be fine."

The search for clothing continued as Josh arranged his flight details. He plucked a light summer sweater from its usual place, padded in socked feet back out into the lounge and dumped it over the back of his couch as the search for his boots continued.

"Also, sir? I can offer that to you in business class if you would prefer?"

"Yeah, whatever." Josh replied distractedly. Where the hell had he put them?

The girl must have picked up on Josh's lack of concern about the details of the trip.

"Do you have your passport, visas, medicals, and all other documentation arranged for this trip yet, sir?" she asked tentatively.

Josh spotted one the toe of one of his boots peeking out from under the sofa.

Grunting slightly, he doubled over and pulled it out. One down, one to go.

"What?"

"Do you have your passport and other documentation arranged for the trip, sir?" she asked again.

Josh paused. Due to the nature of his job, he, like all the senior staff, could be required to travel overseas at a moment's notice, so he tended to keep his passport and medical details with him. The visas, however, might be an issue.

"Yes, I do," he replied.

Two out of three wasn't too much of a lie. Besides he was certain that if he pulled a few strings at State he'd be able to get it sorted in an hour and a half.

His poker voice was a hell of a lot better than his poker face apparently; the girl accepted his assurance without question.

"Do you need any travel insurance?"

"Look," Josh interrupted, getting a little frustrated at the length of the call. "Just put me down for everything, okay?"

The girl was silent for a moment before replying. She was either stunned at his response or had just done a silent Snoopy Dance at the commission she was about to make on this sale.

"Okay, then. I'll just take your details. Could I have your name, please?"

"Joshua Lyman."

Again the sound of tapping was heard followed by a brief pause. When the girl spoke again, her voice had taken on a far more subdued tone.

"Mr Lyman, have you booked with us before?"

Booked with them… that was an understatement. Before _Bartlet for America_ had a plane 'loaned' to them, Josh, Sam and CJ had clocked up so many frequent flyer miles that they might never be able to use them all.

"Yeah, I have."

"Mr Lyman - I've had another look at your proposed itinerary, and I see that we have availability in first class if you'd like?"

Josh grinned sardonically. _Chi-Ching_! And the commission just got better! The better part of Josh's nature slapped down the cynic within. Besides, traveling around in Air Force One for years did tend to skewer your view of traveling coach.

"Yeah – look, I just need a flight to Cairo ASAP." Josh was getting impatient now – he didn't have a lot of time and this was taking too long. He sat down on the sofa and connected with something hard. Reaching behind him, he pulled out his other boot. How the hell had it gotten there? Oh well.

Leaning back and once again cradling the telephone in the crook of his neck, Josh pulled his right boot on.

"Okay. The total for the first class flight including insurance and fees comes to $8256.67. We do have a credit card on record here, sir – for security reasons could you confirm the last four digits for me, please."

Josh looked around for his wallet.

"Umm sure… hang on"

Unzipping his messenger bag Josh rummaged around inside. Damn – where was it? Surely he couldn't have left it at the office?

Instinctively, he patted down the pockets in his jeans… Pockets! Of course! One boot on; Josh half hobbled back into the bedroom and over to the laundry pile. Pulling his pants off the pile, he extracted his wallet and pulled out his Amex.

"OK… it's 4955"

"Thank you Sir."

Josh's brow creased into a frown as an uncomfortable thought suddenly crossed his mind, "I need to make an alteration to my booking."

"Certainly. Go ahead sir."

"Aaah… I'm gonna need to speak to your supervisor though."

"Oh…" The disappointment in the girl's voice was painfully obvious.

"Could you transfer me, please?"

"Certainly, please hold."

Josh scratched the back of his head. He was probably being paranoid about this, but leaving an obvious paper trail could cause complications for everyone if things went wrong… this way, although they would be able to track him as far as New York easily enough, it might take them a little longer to find where he had gone from there.

The hold music broke off and an older female voice came on the line.

"Good morning, Mr Lyman… my name is Renee, how may I help you?"

"Renee? I'm in a situation where I need to travel overseas, but I'd like to keep it quiet. Does your company allow for an alias to be used on the passenger manifest?"

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

"For our premiere passengers, we can."

"Great…" Josh sighed - flying first class should have some perks. "Do I qualify as a premiere passenger?"

"For you Mr Lyman, we can extend that service." There was a slight emphasis on his name; the supervisor obviously realizeding who she was speaking to.

"You do understand that I need total discretion on this."

"Completely, sir. Of course you'll still need all your documentation for the check in."

"Yeah, I thought as much."

"Okay then Mr Lyman, I'll make the appropriate annotations on the passenger manifests. Your reference number is FY734S21 and your tickets will be awaiting collection at the Delta check-in desk; you should check in no later than half an hour before departure. I hope you enjoy your vacation."

"It's not a vacation." Josh corrected automatically.

"I hope you have a good trip then, sir. Can I assist you with anything else today?"

"No, that's it. Thank you."

Josh heaved a sigh of relief as he lowered the phone. One call down and still three to go.

Ten minutes later and the issue over the visa was resolved. If he'd been traveling on government business, getting a visa so quickly wouldn't have been a problem, but Josh was traveling as a private citizen, and he didn't want to do anything which could be seen as a conflict of interest. He'd had to call in a couple of very small favors to get it done, and had made sure he'd been careful with what he'd promised in return. But it was done, and the documents would be awaiting his collection at the airport

Josh moved on to the next call on his list. And it was the one he'd been dreading the most. He was going to call Donna's parents.

First, he had to find their number. Josh was fishing around in a couple of old organisers when a vague memory triggered in his brain. He was pretty sure that when Donna had been all but cohabitating with him after he was shot, she had preprogrammed her parents' number into his home phone's speed dial. Skimming down the list on the cradle, Josh noted number seven: "Donna - Mom". He pressed the button and waited. On the fourth ring the call was answered.

"The Moss residence, Marjorie speaking." The perky, mature voice that answered sounded like an older version of Donna.

Marjorie Moss's tone threw Josh for a loop. Was it possible that she didn't know her daughter might be missing? It seemed unlikely. Donna kept in touch with her folks on a regular basis, and it surprised him to think that her mother wouldn't be fazed not to have heard from her. Donna certainly hassled Josh enough to call his own Mom.

"Mrs Moss? It's Josh Lyman," he said, keeping his tone as neutral as he could.

"Mr Lyman, how very nice to hear from you!"

"Please call me Josh," he replied, starting to pace backwards and forwards behind the sofa.

"Ok. So… Josh. What can I do for you?"

This was getting weirder and weirder. Either Marjorie Moss was the world's greatest actress, or she really didn't know that her daughter could be in danger.

Josh decided to hedge his bets. Donna had left strict instructions before she left that she was to be left alone on this trip and that nothing short of an international emergency would qualify as a reason for Josh to contact her. As far as Josh was concerned, everything that had happened over the past six days qualified, but no one would give him a contact number or address.

"It's nothing really," he said, feigning nonchalance. "I was just wondering if you'd heard from Donna in the last couple of days?"

Now came the moment of truth.

"I spoke to her on Wednesday when she called to wish us a happy fourth. She sounded really excited. She was telling me that Naima's cousin – Runi, I think it was – was taking them on a five-day camping expedition."

The penny dropped into place. No wonder Marjorie sounded so relaxed. She didn't have any idea that Donna was missing and wouldn't until after the weekend. Josh felt strangely relieved. Yes, he was now more worried about Donna, if that were possible, but at least her family was still blissfully ignorant.

"So I'm afraid Donna's rules are still well and truly in place, Josh."

Josh deliberately made himself whine a bit.

"Damn it… Your daughter's making my life a misery going off like this, Mrs Moss". He hoped that came across as the petulant, assistant-less boss he was aiming for.

"If I can call you Josh, you can call me Marge. And I know exactly what my daughter is doing to your life… Did you ever stop to think she might be enjoying it?"

Wow! That one came out of left field. It was easy to see where Donna's sense of humor came from.

Josh glanced at the time. 12:05. Shit! He'd better get a move on if he was to be at National at 1pm.

"Look – I have to go, but when you talk to her next, can you please ask her if she remembers where the Morganstein file is? No one can seem to find it." That was a blatant lie. He knew exactly where the Morganstein file was, because he'd been reading it when Danny's call came through.

Josh could hear the grin in Marge's voice.

"Sure, Josh. I'm certain she'll be able to remember where she put it when she's half a world away. Now run along and try to be the good boy that Donna keeps telling me you are, and don't worry – she'll be back before you know it!"

Marge laughed as she said goodbye.

_Oh, she'll be back, I'll make sure of it._

Josh sighed as he disconnected his end of the call. Reconnecting he pressed the speed dial for his local cab company and quickly ordered one for 12:20.

Speed packing came easily to Josh after five years of practice on both the Bartlet campaign and administration, and eight years prior to that with Hoynes and Brennan. He pulled together a travel case with clothes enough for seven days in under ten minutes.

As he waited for the cab on the stoop, Josh did a mental inventory of what he'd need to take with him.

House keys; laptop; travel documents; cell phone… He paused briefly before reaching into his bag and pulling it out. His first thought was to leave it behind – that would lessen the chances of someone tracking him down. But the chance that he was going to need it when he got to Cairo was pretty strong. So instead he opted for the age old ploy of 'switching it off'. He couldn't answer a call if he couldn't hear it, could he?

A yellow Diamond Cab pulled up. Josh ran down the steps and opened the rear passenger door, swinging his carryall and bag into the cab.

"Booking for Lyman?" the driver asked.

"Yep."

"Where to, buddy?"

"Nat… Regan. Delta."

Josh slammed the door and the cab moved off. Propping his elbow on the window frame and resting his chin in his hand, he gazed at everything and nothing as it flew by, trying not to dwell on the image imprinted on his brain since 10.54 that morning.

It was impossible.


	6. Chapter 6

**Washington DC, Friday 5 July 2002. 1.45pm.**

CJ Cregg wandered wearily back to her office. Was it possible to have jet-lag as a result of flying from New Hampshire to Washington? She decided that her boss was a closet sadist.

This year, President Bartlet had decided that those members of the senior staff who were not going home to their families for the fourth of July should come and spend it with him and his family at the farm in New Hampshire.

"It'll be fun," the president had enthused – yes and fun it might be, but the thing that grated on CJ the most was the underhanded, sneaky way he had quite neatly pinned them down like a junior entomologist.

It had been shaping up to be a quiet Wednesday for once, or so she'd thought at Senior Staff that morning in Leo's office….

_CJ had noticed that Josh was a little down in the dumps. Six days without Donna… and he was already on the verge of firing the young temp who was trying valiantly to fill her shoes. CJ knew of at least one pool involving Josh, the temp and some pretty good odds on whether she'd quit before she was fired._

_Assignments were handed out as usual, Leo really making Josh's day by telling him that the upcoming commerce bill was going to require some hand- holding after the holiday. The thought of Josh 'hand-holding' anyone, let alone a delegation of right wing Democrats with a couple of Republicans thrown in for good measure drew a snigger from both CJ and Sam. Bitch-slapping them around the beltway, that was more the Lyman style. A stern glare from Leo stopped them as Josh opened his mouth to retort, but shut it just as quickly when Leo's glare moved in his direction. _

_Toby and Sam were putting the finishing touches to the president's National Address, and CJ had been given the onerous task of releasing the findings of the joint investigation into the disappearance of Shareef's gulf-stream. Not that there were any findings… and that's what made it onerous. She'd be fending off questions to which she had no answers for days._

_They were about to wrap up when there was a single knock on the connecting door to the Oval office. It opened and the president walked in._

_Everyone stood automatically, a chorus of "Good morning, Mr. President" or "Good Morning, sir," echoing around the room._

"_Sit down everyone, please." Bartlet waved his hands at them._

"_Did you need something, sir?" Leo asked, his hand poised on the rim of his reading glasses._

"_No, not really. I was just coming in to make sure that everyone was going to get to see their loved ones on the anniversary of our Nation's birth tomorrow. Sam, what are your plans?"_

_Sam looked at the president with mild shock in his eyes, as if the question had caught him off guard. He'd been looking forward to his planned visit to California for a whirlwind day of fun and frivolity with his family for ages, and had been happily telling anyone who'd listen (and several who wouldn't) about it for weeks._

"_I fly out for LAX at 7.30 this evening. Then I have a full day of family breakfast, picnics and barbeques planned. We're going to head down to the foreshore for the fireworks and then I'm on the red-eye that night and back to work on the fifth." His smile bordered on a smirk as he outlined his itinerary. Only Sam could look that innocently happy at the prospect of forty eight hours with little or no sleep._

"_Excellent!" The president nodded in approval. "Just make sure you get some rest. I don't want to have to prod you during our meetings on Friday. Anyone else? Josh?"_

"_Me sir? I'm… staying in town… Mom said it was too much of deal getting down to Florida for only one day."_

"_Sam's going to California, which is just as far if not further than Florida," the president noted._

"_What Josh means to say, sir…" Toby interrupted. "Is that Donna forgot to book his ticket before she left for her holiday."_

_The room broke into laughter at Toby's comment, with the notable exception of Josh who stared around indignantly._

"_Hey! That's not true, I'll have you know… I'm quite capable of making my own travel arrangements!"_

"_I'm sure you are, Josh," Bartlet laughed, rocking back on his heels. "So you have no plans for tomorrow?"_

"_Nah - CJ and I are thinking of hooking up, grabbing a bite to eat and then vegging out in front of the tv._

"_You've got no family commitments this year, Claudia Jean?"_

"_No, sir," CJ replied. "My Dad's going to visit my brother in Napa for a couple of weeks; I was going to try and get to see them, but…" she shrugged her shoulders and sighed._

"_I'm sorry to hear that, CJ. Maybe something will turn up."_

_It was at that moment, CJ thought later, that she should have realized something was going on. And if that hadn't tipped her off, the answer Toby gave to the question should certainly have had her revising hers. _

"_Toby?"_

_Toby eyed both the president and Leo suspiciously, Leo having been conspicuously silent up until this point. Something was going on and CJ just couldn't put her finger on it._

"_I… have plans."_

"_Would you care to elaborate on that?"_

"_No, sir… with due respect… I would not."_

"_Oh, c'mon Toby!" Josh groaned. "We told you our plans!"_

"_I'm busy… doing things….with nieces and nephews"_

_Josh snorted indelicately and rolled his eyes. _

"_Josh," the president admonished. "If Toby says he has plans, we have to believe him."_ _He fixed Toby with a glare. "Even if he is lying_!"_ Toby simply stared back at him impassively._

"_And what about you, Leo? What are your plans for the next couple of days?"_

_CJ had noted in the past that the president got a twinkle in his right eye just before he announced something that he felt was in the best possible interest of all his staff. It was a twinkle that the staff had come to know well – and dread.. It was the twinkle he had right now._

_Then she noticed that Leo had a similar twinkle in his eye… only his was accompanied by a twitching at the left corner of his lip._

"_Me, sir? I'm about to spend the rest of the day fighting with at least two members of my staff after I tell them that they're going to have to go home and pack an overnight bag of casual clothes suitable for a summer day and night in New Hampshire. I am then going to strong arm said staffers into getting into a motorcade to Andrews where, along with me, they will board Air Force One for the one and a half hour trip to Manchester. I will then be expected to endure thirty six hours of inane trivia from my host – without complaint – I might add AND the whining about said trivia from my traveling companions. I will once again board Air Force One and fly another hour and a half back, landing at some ungodly hour in the middle of the night, go back to my place, catch about three hours sleep and be back at my desk by seven am Friday morning."_

"_Well, I don't know if I liked the 'inane trivia' crack, but I can pretty much guarantee that there will be NO whining on the trip from anyone involved. But apart from that, your plan seems just fine."_

_CJ took a moment to assimilate what she'd just heard. Glancing first at Josh, who – from the looks of things was trying to do the same – she took in the slightly bemused expression on Sam's face and Toby's rather self-satisfied air as he leaned back in his chair looking at her down the bridge of his nose over his steepled fingers. _

"_Wait for it…" he said quietly. "Five…."_

Fighting two staffers…

"_Four…."_

Air Force One…

"_Three…"_

Manchester…

"_Two…"_

Inane trivia…

"_One…"_

_Josh and CJ finally put two and two together and they shot each other a startled look._

"_LEO!"_

"_And here endeth the lesson," Toby smirked._

And so it had come about that CJ and Josh had spent thirty six hours with the first family and Leo up in Manchester.

In all fairness it was actually quite a nice change – if you could get past the 'inane trivia' that the president couldn't avoid treating them to, trivia that had caused her to bite her tongue on more than one occasion. But CJ took comfort from the fact that she wasn't the only one to have suffered – she could have sworn she had overheard Josh muttering something about 'going to find a snake to molest' at one point.

The fourth of July celebrations had gone on late into the night and continued unabated on the journey back, where, despite the First Lady's protestations, the president had kept them awake with a running commentary on the history of the firework. When they had landed back at Andrews in the wee small hours of Friday morning, CJ, Leo, Josh and the rest of the president's captives had made a rapid beeline for their respective homes.

Now with, as Leo so accurately prophesized, only three hours sleep and half the day still ahead of her, CJ felt like she had been run over by a freight train. Groaning as she flopped down on her couch and swung her legs up, she cracked open the bottle of water in her hand, leaned back and took a sip.

She allowed herself a moment of relaxation, feeling her heart beat through the soles of her feet. She should have worn the flats.

"Carol?" CJ called, one forearm resting lightly over her tired eyes.

"Yeah, boss?" Carol got up from her chair and came to stand in the doorway of CJ's office.

"Any calls?"

"Three," Carol said.

CJ lifted her arm and peered up at her.

"Suzie MacDonald from the Times, regarding the Ikeman legacy story," Carol shrugged, leafing through her notes, "Tom O'Brien, wanting to confirm details for the release of the anthology of White House photographers, and Danny."

"Danny?" CJ sat upright.

"Yeah, he called about 10.50 but he was after Josh."

"So he called you?"

"Apparently he didn't have Josh's direct number. He just wanted me to transfer him."

"Hmm? Okay." CJ thought that seemed a little odd, but didn't say anything further.

"Thinking about it now, it seems a little odd." Carol said, unconsciously echoing CJ's thoughts. "He seemed really agitated about something. I tried to talk to him, but he just shut me down."

"Good agitated? Or bad agitated?" Danny in any state of agitation when he was working on a story usually held wide ranging implications.

"Wiggy agitated, I'd say."

Damn. CJ could really do without this right now. If she was honest with herself, what she really wanted was to lie down for half an – no make that an hour, but that clearly wasn't going to happen. It wasn't going to happen because thanks to Danny, she was now going to have to get back onto her aching feet and go to see Josh about this mysterious phone call. Groaning she hauled herself off the very comfortable couch.

"Carol, if anybody needs me, I'm going to see Josh."

"He's not there."

CJ stopped in her tracks. "He's not?"

"I thought you might want to see him so I called Eloise when you got back.

"Who's Eloise?"

"Josh's temp. Anyway, when I called Josh had left. He said he was going to be out for the rest of the day."

CJ shrugged internally. That wasn't unusual. Oh well, he'd probably be back for the strategy meeting at four. She would ask him about the call then.


	7. Chapter 7

**Friday 6 July 2002, 3.45pm**

The gentle knocking at his door caused Leo to look up from the memo he was reading to see… a mini Margaret?

The girl standing in the open doorway of his office was almost the spitting image of his quirky assistant – except that she was about two feet shorter.

"Mr McGarry?"

Leo looked over the top of his glasses at her.

Shuffling her feet from side to side, she brushed a stray strand of hair from her face whilst fiddling with the envelope in her other hand.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

"Mr McGarry, Mr Lyman said I should give this to you before your four o'clock meeting."

She took two hesitant steps into the Chief of Staff's office and held out the envelope.

"You must be Eloise, right?" Leo said, trying to put her at ease. Jeez, she was as timid as a mouse. It must've been bad enough for her having to deal with Josh – he didn't want to scare the wits totally out of her.

"Yes, sir."

"When did Josh give this to you?" he said absently as he opened the plain white envelope.

"Um… this morning, sometime around eleven I think. Just before he left."

Leo unfolded the letter inside as he looked up at her.

"He had a meeting with McKinley today, didn't he?"

"Yes, sir… "

Leo started to read the letter.

"But he never made it to the meeting," Eloise finished hurriedly.

Leo felt he blood rush from his face as he looked down at the hastily scrawled message. He knew it had been written in a hurry because Josh's normally erratic writing style now resembled a doctor's prescription.

"What did you just say?" Leo asked - without looking up from the page as he tried to decipher the message.

"I got a call from Senator McKinley's aide asking if Josh was still coming to the meeting."

Leo read the same line over and over again, but the words didn't change. There was no explanation and certainly no excuse for what Leo read.

"MARGARET!" he roared.

The door leading to Margaret's office swung open immediately as she entered, frowning slightly. Margaret was used to being summarily bellowed at, but she had never heard him bellow quite that way before.

"Get me Ron Butterfield - NOW!" he snarled. "Then call CJ, Sam and Toby – I want them in here less than a minute after you call them." Leo's agate glare swept back to where the terrified Eloise stood. "Why did it take you so long to get this to me?"

"I… I…I…" Eloise shook her head slightly not knowing what to say. "He only told me that you had to have it before the four o'clock meeting. If he'd said it was urgent I would have b…b….brought it s…s…s…sooner." She started to sob under the sudden vehemence of Leo's questioning.

Leo's expression softened at the sight of the girl crying. Damn - he hadn't meant to take it out on her. There would be no way that Josh would have told her to bring it straight away – he'd wanted to give himself a window.

"I'm sorry, Leo said quietly. Moving out from behind his desk he walked over to stand next to her. "It's been a rough week for you, hasn't it?"

"Y….y….yesssss!" She wailed and covered her face with her hands her shoulders heaving up and down in great sobs. "M...m…my l…last job wasn't l…like th…th…this"."

_Aw, Hell!_ Leo sighed. He hated to see a woman cry. He never knew exactly what to do, patting her arm hesitantly whilst praying silently for Margaret's return.

"Margaret," he called softly when she didn't reappear immediately. Margaret's head popped around the door.

The expression on her face would have been amusing at any other time. It bordered on 'what are you doing to that girl?'

Removing his arm, Leo gently directed her towards Margaret.

"Take her down to the mess and get her something to drink, would you?"

Margaret nodded. "Of course. Come on." As Margaret took the young woman out of the room, Sam, Toby and CJ arrived in quick succession.

"'s up Leo, you need us?" CJ asked.

"Yes," he stated, his tone flat, emotionless. "But in there, in a minute." He pointed at the door to the Oval office.

Leo walked over to the door, knocked and then entered. The three remaining staffers looked at each other, Toby frowning questioningly at the other two. CJ raised an eyebrow and Sam just shrugged then mouthed, 'where's Josh?'

Before anyone could respond an explosive reaction came from the other room.

"DAMN IT!" President Bartlet roared.

Leo reappeared in the doorway.

"Come in," he beckoned them into the room, closing the connecting door behind them.

Before the three of them had advanced more than a couple of feet into the room, Jed Bartlet rounded on them, his eyes blazing.

"Did any of you know about this?" he blustered, waving a piece of white paper at them.

"Know about what?" CJ frowned, an ominous feeling beginning to settle in the pit of her stomach.

"This…. this…. thing!"

"I'm sorry, sir, we don't…." Sam ventured

"He's your friend and he didn't say anything to _any_ of you?"

Suddenly, things started to fall into place, The 'he' the president was angry about was obviously Josh. He was the only one who wasn't there, and he was also the only one dumb enough to risk his wrath.

"CHARLIE!" Bartlet bellowed.

His bodyman appeared at the door of the private office.

"Yes sir?"

"Get Ron Butterfield in here, NOW!"

"He's on his way already, sir – I called him," Leo said, trying to calm things down a bit.

"Would you like to tell them? Or should I?" the president growled, his eyes still flashing with anger as he moved back behind his desk.

"What's he done?" CJ asked, taking the metaphorical bull by the horns. The sooner one of the two men told the rest of them what was going on, the sooner they could begin to sort out whatever mess Josh had landed in now.

Bartlet glared at CJ over the top of his glasses and handed the piece of paper to Leo who took it without a word and started to read.

"Leo. Something big's come up. I'm sorry but I have to take a few days off. I'll contact you if and when I can. Josh."

Silence settled over the room. The president sat down in the chair behind his desk – Leo standing to one side like a sentinel, the letter gripped in his hand. CJ and Sam sank into the couches, their faces unreadable.

Toby simply shrugged and ran his hand over his pate.

"Well that was… abrupt. Even by Josh's standards."

Before anyone else could attempt to speculate about what had happened, the door to the private office opened again and Charlie stepped in.

"Mr President. Ron Butterfield is here."

"Thank you Charlie, show him in."

Charlie stepped aside to grant the tall secret service agent access to the Oval Office.

Dressed in his standard black, Ron Butterfield nodded to Leo and with his usual calm efficiency; he walked over to stand in front of the president's desk.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. President? A matter of some urgency I gather?" Ron looked around the room, carefully studying the faces of its occupants.

"Oh, you could say that," Bartlet replied sarcastically. "It appears that my Deputy Chief of Staff has gone AWOL. I'd like you to do whatever it is you do to find out where he is… and drag him back here… trussed up like a Thanksgiving Turkey if you have to!"

"Sir," Leo cautioned.

"Well, dammit, Leo! What the hell does that boy think he's playing at? We're on the verge of a floor fight over an En Com bill that could restructure the government regulations on Savings and Loans and he chooses precisely this moment to disappear." The president stood again and moved around the desk. "Do we need to put a leash on him?"

"We normally have one," CJ muttered under her breath.

"I'm sorry, Claudia Jean? Did you have something to add to the conversation?"

CJ looked abashed.

"I just said - we usually have one. A leash, I mean – Donna."

"Yes well, her being away, that's another piece of perfect timing, I must say."

"Sir," Ron interrupted. "If you'll excuse me, I'll start making enquiries."

Bartlet nodded his ascent.

As Butterfield turned to leave the Oval, Leo stopped him, briefly. "Ron - start with Eloise - she's been temping for Josh this week. As far as I know, she was the last person to speak to him today. She said that he left sometime just before eleven this morning. You should find her in the mess with Margaret."

Ron nodded and left.

"Mr President, with your permission?" Leo inclined his head back towards his office."

Bartlet sighed.

"Yeah, go ahead Leo… you too, guys" he said waving at CJ, Toby and Sam. "Let me know when we have something."

"Yes, Mr. President."

They all walked into Leo's office watching as he shut the door.

"Well, we can't do anything further until we have more information," Leo sighed. "We'll wait to see what Ron comes up with and take it from there. Maybe we're just overreacting to the wording of the note."

"Do you really believe that?" Toby asked as they moved towards the outer door. "It's Josh you're talking about."

Leo didn't trust himself to answer that question; instead he turned to Sam.

"Sam – do you know if anyone has a key to Josh's apartment?"

"Besides Donna? No, I don't. But I can call the super…"

"Don't worry about it - Ron's people will take care of it when they need to. Okay…" Leo looked around and nodded their dismissal.

After an hour of quiet frustration, they reconvened in the Oval Office to hear what Ron had managed to uncover so far. Leo had wanted to keep the president out of it as far as he could, but that had proved impossible - he took the well being of his staff very seriously.

Besides, this was Josh. Josh, who, no matter how pissed Leo was at him – and make no mistake, he had been seriously pissed at him on any number of occasions – was like a son. Josh, who was like his good friend Jed Bartlet in so many ways – brilliant, mercurial, dedicated – and yet so different in others.

Abbey had once described Josh as "special" and, God help them, he was, but it was difficult to remember exactly _why_ he was special when he pulled stunts like this.

Ron was already in the Oval when CJ, Sam and Toby arrived. Leo was sitting on one of the sofas – CJ joined him, whilst Sam and Toby went to sit opposite them.

"So; Ron," the president began, "what have you got so far?"

"Not a lot, sir. But I do have some information…" Ron hesitated and looked around at the others.

"It's okay Ron, they're his friends, though why, I'm not sure. Let's have it."

"Well, sir, Josh's car is at his apartment, in the garage. The apartment is messy, but there's no sign of anything untoward. His closet and some drawers were left open, and there were clothes all over the place."

"Like someone had packed in a hurry?" asked CJ.

Ron nodded. "Yes, ma'am, quite possibly."

"Did you check with his family?" President Bartlet asked suddenly.

"I called Josh's mother, Mr. President," Leo interjected before Ron could answer. "I discussed it with Ron, sir - we've known each other for years… "

"And?"

"We had a nice chat and the only thing she said to me about Josh was, 'Is my boy keeping out of trouble?'."

"So he's not gone home on a family emergency."

"It would appear not."

"OK," Bartlet turned and looked out the window towards the portico and sighed. "This is going well. What else do you have Ron?"

"I spoke to the temp as Leo suggested. Her information wasn't particularly helpful, apart from confirming what you'd said earlier about Josh leaving the West Wing some time around 11am."

Out of the corner of his eye, Leo noticed CJ's eyes widen suddenly at this statement.

"CJ?"

"Leo." She whipped her gaze away from Ron to face him. "Josh left around eleven?"

"That's what the temp told me. Why?"

"It may be nothing, but when I got back from my lunch briefing this afternoon, Carol told me that Danny Concannon called shortly before eleven asking to speak to Josh."

"What was Danny doing calling Josh?" Sam asked.

"Carol didn't know," CJ replied turning to face him, then looking back at Leo. "But Carol said that Danny sounded agitated. When I asked her if she meant in a good or bad way she said, and I'm using her words here – 'wiggy agitated'. Sir - I know Danny; 'wiggy' isn't a term I would usually use to describe him."

"Do you know where Danny is at present?" Leo asked, his mind racing. What the hell did a Washington Post reporter have to do with Josh taking off so suddenly? This was just getting worse.

"Yeah, I do Leo."

CJ turned to address the president face on.

"He's working on a story in Egypt."

President Bartlet's eyes widened.

"Ron…"

"I'm on it, sir." Ron exited the room in a hurry.

Toby broke the silence that had settled over them all. "I've had a couple of calls," he began quietly. "Josh didn't show at any of the meetings on the Hill he had planned for today. Leo, you might want to speak to Tripplehorn and put out a few spot fires that have flared up because he didn't show."

Leo sighed heavily. "Yeah…"

Just at that moment, the door to the outer office opened, and Ron re-entered the room.

"Mr President. We've found him."

"You mean you've got him?"

"No, but we know where he is."

"Well?"

"A man matching Josh's description, traveling under an assumed name boarded an Air Egypt flight from JFK to Cairo flying first class. It departed the US at 15.30. He's been in the air for just over two hours now. Scheduled arrival time is 01.45 EST tomorrow"

"Are you sure it's Josh?"

"It'll take a few minutes more to confirm that it _is_ him, but yes we can be fairly certain."

"Alright. Ron, as soon as you have confirmation – get this message to that plane." Bartlet leaned down to scrawl something on a piece of paper.

Ron took the note, read it through, and nodded stoically at the president before leaving the room.

"Why Egypt?" Sam asked.

"You really need to ask that question?" Toby snorted.

"He wouldn't be that dumb, surely?" CJ asked, following Toby's train of thought.

"Secret plan to fight inflation?"

"Oh, God he would. If he has, I'll kill him!"

"Would one of you care to let the rest of us in to your little club?" the president interrupted.

CJ really didn't want to answer. What they were thinking would probably get Josh into more trouble than he was in already.

"CJ?" Leo started giving her that 'look', the look that dared you to mess with him. He was serious.

"What I mean is…." CJ couldn't get the words out. Josh would be lucky to keep his job if she told them.

"CJ, don't be coy. If you have something to say, say it."

"She thinks that Josh has gone to Egypt to meet up with Donna." Toby snapped.

The president stared from Toby to CJ and back to Leo.

"He wouldn't..?"

"He just up and left for no apparent reason because his assistant went on vacation?

"He might." Leo said.

"Why now? Why not the day Donna left?"

"Because of the rules, sir," Sam said returning to the conversation for the first time in a while.

"Rules?"

"Donna is big on rules, sir; remember what it was like after Rosslyn? We practically needed to have a signed presidential order to get in and see him while he was at home recovering."

"Sam, is there a point to this?"

"My point is, sir, that when Leo agreed to Donna's leave she imposed some non-contact rules on Josh. She was going on vacation and didn't want to be getting phone calls at ungodly hours asking her about the bi-annual trout count. She said she was to be contacted only in the case of a national emergency and she only gave one person the discretionary power to say something was a national emergency – and her holiday details."

"Who?" Leo and the president said in perfect unison.

"Me"

"You?" Leo couldn't hide the incredulity in his voice.

"She trusts me."

"Well I'm glad she trusts someone," Bartlet said. "Sam, go get those contact details. We need to contact her, Leo. But it still doesn't answer why he picked today to leave.

"I think Danny may have had something to do with that, sir," CJ commented. "I'm betting that Danny has run across Donna somewhere in Cairo and he's tipped him off to her location."

"It seems to all fit into to place, but something's not right here, Leo. Josh might be hot headed and impulsive, but this isn't normal. Not even for him. There must be something else to it." The president ran his hand over his hair. "CJ, try and contact Danny. See if you can find out what he said to Josh to set him off. Well people, we can't do anything more for the moment. At least we know he's safe and for the moment, that's the best we can hope for." He nodded. "You can go."


	8. Chapter 8

**Friday July 5/Saturday Jul 6, 2002. Washington DC/Cairo – 6.05 pm EST.**

It was just after 6pm DC time by Josh's watch. He'd witnessed too many travelers twist themselves up in knots trying to keep up with the international time zones on long flights, so he had learned not to bother changing to the local time zone until he arrived at his destination. Instead he just leaned back in his first class seat and tried to get some sleep – he doubted he'd get many opportunities for that once he arrived in Cairo.

Sitting in the plush comfort of a Boeing 777's first class lounge, Josh turned his mind to the events of the day, regret already gnawing at him over what he'd had to do.

His abrupt departure was going to cause problems,that was for sure. In addition to everything else, he'd abandoned the En-Com discussions without so much as a 'by your leave'. Josh could think of at least three Senators who would be pounding on Leo's door baying for his blood.

But every time Josh started to second guess his actions Donna's face would rise up to taunt him, those incredible eyes reflecting a horrible fate awaiting her on the other side of the camera that had taken that photo.

What if he didn't get there in time? What was he going to do then? The date in Danny's email must have some significance, July 10, 7pm. That would give him three days on the ground to try to get an answer.

Frustration and exhaustion started creeping deeper into Josh's bones and finally he started to drift off to sleep.

But there was no respite for him in sleep. Disjointed images of shrouded figures reaching out oily hands towards the pale naked form of a young woman bathed in an eerie spotlight filled his dreams. Valiantly his dream self tried to reach for her, his own hands pushing towards the cringing form. Just as he reached her the shrouded figures surged forward sweeping her from his reach and carrying her away into the darkness… her screams far too real…

A hand on Josh's shoulder jolted him back to reality. He realized he was breathing rapidly and fought to get it under control, at the same time sitting up in his seat and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Mr Lyman?" A stewardess with a name tag that read _Helen_ said in a semi- whisper. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but we've just received a message for you.

Josh blinked at her a couple of times. "A.. a.. message? For me?" Josh's already racing heart pounded louder in his ears and his mouth was dry. He knew what was coming.

"Yes; would you like me to read it to you?"

"Um…" Josh ran his hand over his haggard face and sighed. "Yeah, thanks."

"From Potus to DCoS," she began hesitantly. Josh allowed himself a mocking grin, he had long suspected that the abbreviations used to designate the president and his staff were intentionally designed to confuse people. Helen continued, now a little more sure of herself. "Unscheduled holiday discovered. Flight arrival time at destination known. Expecting call within 30 minutes of disembarkation. If call not received within window – extended Eglin holiday arranged for your return." She finished her recitation and cocked her head to one side. "I hope that makes sense to you Mr Lyman." _Because it sure as hell doesn't to me_ – Josh finished the thought written clearly on her face.

Unfortunately the meaning of the note was all to clear to Josh. The president was pissed at him and he was pissed big time. Josh was pretty sure that he couldn't be summarily dispatched to the Eglin… not without a trial and for something which wasn't, well, illegal, but knowing Jed Bartlet as he did, Josh wasn't willing to bet that he wouldn't come up with some other appropriate punishment if he was so minded.

"Can I get you anything while I'm here, Mr Lyman?" Helen asked politely.

"I'm fine, thank you," Josh replied trying to give her a grin for her troubles. But it was a shaky one at best.

"I'm sorry if I startled you before."

"I'm a bit of a nervous flyer," he lied, trying to cover for his startled jump when she had woken him up.

"Okay then," Helen smiled knowingly. "I'll let you get some rest." And she moved off as someone in a seat towards the front signaled to her.

The rest of the flight came and went without further incident. Despite the best, or rather, worst efforts of Josh's subconscious, he actually did manage to get a couple of hours rest. The stewardesses served "breakfast" around midnight by Josh's watch and he tried to eat, but found himself pushing the food around his plate instead. He even turned down the strong aromatic coffee that they offered, not knowing what a shot of caffeine would do to his system right now.

The sun was cresting over the horizon as the captain of the plane announced that they would soon be starting their descent into Cairo. He gave the normal information, date, local time, current temperature – which, Josh noticed as he set his watch to the local time, was already 84 degrees at 8.30 am.

The landing was smooth at Cairo International Airport. The interminable taxi from the runway to the terminal was horrendous, causing Josh's already frayed nerves to unravel a bit further. How much longer before he could get off this damned plane and begin searching for Donna? Josh was groaning inwardly as he suddenly realized that he was going to have to go through customs as well before he could get started, when the captain's voice came over the intercom once again thanking them all for traveling with Egyptair and instructing them to have a nice day.

"Unlikely," Josh muttered as he stood up and retrieved his messenger bag from the overhead luggage compartment.

Never had Josh been so grateful for the fact that one of the perks of flying first class was that you got to get off the plane before everyone else. Looking over the heads of the elderly couple in front of him, Josh could see the front cabin door opening. As they shuffled forward in the age old tradition of exiting a plane en masse, Josh felt nervous energy start to build up in his chest…

Pursing his lips and puffing out his cheeks slightly Josh, not the most patient man under the best of circumstances, was getting more irritated by the second. 'C'mon people, could you go any slower?' he mumbled under his breath.

As soon as he was out onto the jetway, Josh apologized and shouldered past the two elderly travelers and all but ran up the angled ramp towards the airport proper. The hollow roar that accompanied all jetways gave way to a roar of a different kind as he entered arrival lounge through the glass sliding doors.

There were people everywhere. Uniformed guards, airline staff, fellow travelers; noise and color swirled in a riotous mass before him. Heading straight for the luggage carousel bearing his flight's number, Josh, hands thrust deep into his pockets, watched for his carryall, ignoring the looks and comments of the passengers he had pushed past in his hurry.

Watching the carousel Josh finally stopped his luggage. Snagging it from the conveyor belt, he looked for the quickest route through customs and out of the terminal. Spotting the "Nothing to Declare" sign, Josh made his way over to the queue, silently thankful that he'd sorted out his travel visas before he left the States. He didn't have to hang around or worry about them at this end and he certainly hadn't had the time or the inclination to bring anything illegal or suspect into the country. He looked in desolation at the length of the line, which looked as though everyone in the building was trying to get out this way. Running his hand over his face and through his hair, he shrugged his bag higher onto his shoulder and took his place at the back of the line.

For such a long line, it was moving surprisingly quickly. Ten minutes later having perfunctorily shown his documents to a very solemn looking official, Josh moved through the customs exit point into the body of the airport itself.

If Josh's senses had been bombarded when he'd stepped off the jetway, they were now under a full scale tactical assault. Having left the air-conditioned sanctuary of the plane and customs, Josh felt the Wesleyan t-shirt he had slipped on back in the relative cool of DC suddenly plastered to his back as he tried to move through the thronging masses. Fortunately Josh had had the sense to take off the navy blue summer sweater he'd been wearing on the plane. The humidity was intense, his legs felt heavy as the heat sapped him of his strength and patience.

Within seconds of clearing the metal barriers, Josh had people swarming around him like flies around rotting meat. At least a dozen thickly accented voices offered him taxis, tour guides - and he was pretty certain that one young woman offered him something that would have been illegal back in the States!

Josh thanked everyone for their offers and moved as quickly as he could without tripping over someone, towards the main doors of the terminal. He could get a taxi from there and head to the Marriot to try to find Danny.

Just before he reached the doors however, the sound of a cellphone ringing somewhere behind him suddenly reminded him that he had a call to make. An important call. To the president. Of the United States. Shit!

A glowing yellow sign over in the corner of the terminal caught Josh's attention. _Great_. Josh started to step off towards the bank of public phones when a hand grabbed him on the shoulder. The hours of frustration and tension that had built up inside since he'd left DC broke through his attempts at civility and he rounded on his assailant ferociously, fully intent on giving them a piece of his mind even though they probably wouldn't understand him. Whipping round to face whoever it was, Josh stood dumbfounded for a second as his brain registered that it was Danny Concannon who had grabbed him.

Relief washed over Josh like a tidal wave. Danny was exactly who he needed to see right now. Well actually that wasn't entirely true. What Josh really NEEDED to see right now was Donna standing next to Danny. But given the circumstances any port in a storm would do!

"God, Danny!" The relief in his voice bordered on hysteria. Both men moved at the same time and fell into a rough embrace.

"You look like shit, Josh," Danny laughed.

"Well that's good, 'cause I feel like shit too! It would be a waste if I didn't look the part as well." Despite his worry and frustration, Josh's relief at seeing his friend was reflected in the grin currently lighting up his face

"I see it didn't take you long to get here," Danny noted.

"No - more to the point, how the hell did you know I was going to be on this flight?"

"Well I could put it down to my sheer wealth of talent as a first class reporter – y'know, a finger in every pie, an ear to every door…"

"You got a phone call?" Josh guessed.

"That obvious, huh?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"Gotta tell you man, your boss is a scary individual when he wants to be - especially at 5am in the morning!"

"Leo called you?" Josh raised his eyebrows in surprise and realized with annoyance, that his voice was going up with them.

"Um, no… not Leo."

Josh's eyes widened even further.

"The president called you?" Oh, God. The president was more involved than he'd thought. That threatened vacation at Eglin was suddenly looking quite attractive.

"Well, not originally. CJ called me and when I told her that I would not betray my journalistic integrity by revealing your location, she sicced him on to me. I'm not sure I like the president anymore, Josh," Danny joked. "He suggested I start thinking about what it would be like to only ever have my stuff printed in the National Enquirer!"

"Wow! You got off lightly. He's threatening to send me on an extended vacation to Florida."

"What? You don't like the climate? You could go see you mom…"

"Eglin Air Force base, Florida."

"Aaah, I see," Danny said catching Josh's drift."

"Hm. Look, Danny, I really have to call them. If I don't get in touch in the next few minutes, I might as well start getting fitted for pajamas with arrows on them." Josh gestured with his thumb towards the bank of phones.

"I didn't tell them anything other than the fact I'd spoken to you," Danny stated emphatically as they walked.

"I really didn't think you would," Josh half smiled "In fact, I didn't even think they'd phone you... come to think of it, how the hell did they figure it out?"

They looked at the row of phones until they saw one with credit card facilities. Josh reached it just before a harried looking man in a business suit made a grab for it. Josh gave him a withering glare, and he backed off.

"Apparently CJ put two and two together when your assistant told them what time you'd left. Carol had told her about my call," Danny shrugged

"Ahkay." Josh shrugged his bag to the ground between his feet and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. Slipping the platinum Amex from its well worn sleeve he picked up the receiver and swiped it through the strip reader.

Dialling Leo's number quickly before glancing at his watch, he saw that he had made the call with one minute to spare

"Leo McGarry's office?" Margaret answered.

Josh blinked, taken by surprise. It was a quarter to 2 in the morning… Leo never kept Margaret that late.

"Hey Margaret, it's Josh."

"Josh – I'll put you through – they're expecting your call." Margaret sounded her usual, efficient self, albeit a little subdued.

They? This didn't sound good.

"YOU IDIOT!" A male voice yelled down the line before Josh could say a word.

The sudden explosion of sound ripped into Josh's ear. Jumping about a foot into the air and yanking the faded plastic handset away from his ear, Josh stared at it in amazement and then looked at Danny who, despite the ambient noise of the airport and the fact he was about two feet away, had obviously heard it too.

Well, apparently Margaret hadn't transferred him through to Leo.

"JOSH?" The president's voice roared again.

"Yes, sir" Josh grimaced, edging the receiver back towards his ear.

"What the HELL do you THINK you are DOING?"

Well at least he was only yelling every other word now.

"Sir, I really can't explain."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T EXPLAIN?" Leo's voice thundered.

Wonderful… he was on speakerphone. Josh ran his hand over his face and sighed.

"Leo…. I just can't."

This was going to get ugly, Josh could tell. But he really wasn't in a position to offer an explanation right now. He was talking to the President of the United States on an unsecured line, whilst standing in the middle of a busy airport half a world away. How could he possibly go into detail even if he wanted to?

"Have you met up with Donna yet?" CJ's sarcastic tone filtered down the line.

"I don't want to talk about it, CJ," Josh growled menacingly.

"I don't think you're going to have much choice, Joshua," Bartlet replied.

Josh leaned his left arm against the casing of the phone and leant his head down onto it. "Sir, with all due respect – I'm standing in the middle of Cairo Airport having just spent close to ten hours traveling. In addition to that this is an unsecured line, so I really don't think this is the best time or place to be having a conversation, sir."

"Really?" The president's tone dripped sarcasm. "So what would you suggest?"

"Give me twelve hours grace. I'll have a chance to freshen up and I'll present myself at the US Embassy where I can call from a secure line."

"In twelve hours, Mr Lyman I expect to see you sitting at your desk." The president's voice was so icy it fairly crackled down the line – although of course it could have just been that the line was deteriorating as well.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do that."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I can't leave yet, sir."

"Can't or won't?" Leo asked.

Josh felt his ire rising quickly. He was sick of this. He needed to clean up and get going; the longer he was delayed, the longer it would be before he could begin his search for Donna.

"Leo, I'm not going to have this discussion with you now. I'll call from the Embassy at 1.30 pm your time today."

"You will discuss…" Josh didn't hear what the president started to say as he slipped the receiver back into its cradle.

Danny stared, wide-eyed and opened-mouthed at Josh.

"Did I just hear right? Did you just hang up on a call from the president?"

Josh reached down, lifted up his bag, grabbed the handle of his suitcase and started to move towards the exit.

"Yeah… I guess I did," he replied noncommittally.

Danny raced to catch up with him.

"You just hung up on the most important person in the world my friend… how does it feel to be unemployed?" Danny's face split into a wide grin.

"Firstly Danny, right here and right now, President Bartlet is not the most important person in the world – I'm reserving that title for a friend who can't be found. And secondly – I don't think I'm unemployed… but I think I might just be the world's first walking corpse, because he's going to have my head on a platter by the end of this!" Josh joked half heartedly. "So where is this hotel of yours?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Saturday July 6, 2002, Washington DC – 1.46am EST**

There was a stunned silence in the room as the phone line went dead.

Nobody moved. Nobody dared to. They just stood around the desk looking at the black phone in varying degrees of astonishment.

The president leaned back in his chair, his blue eyes wide with shock. But it didn't last for long. Sam watched as the iciness that he had seen in them only a few minutes earlier returned. Bartlet was pissed as hell at Josh and at the moment he wasn't hiding it. The air between them had been frosty at best since the welfare reform bill had passed and in fact, now Sam came to think of it, Josh had been in the firing line at every turn since then. It was nothing big. Nothing he could put his finger on. It was just that suddenly the president seemed to be looking unfavorably on everything that Josh did. Now Josh had done something so totally, indescribably…indescribable… Sam couldn't even put it into words, and for a speech writer that was bad news.

President Bartlet steepled his fingers together and tapped them to his pursed lips. He sat like that for several seconds, then he spoke – just six words.

"You can go, all of you."

It was a command to be obeyed straight away and without question.

Toby's expression didn't change; CJ's eyes grew a little wider and Leo just nodded and thanked the president before ushering them towards his office.

CJ was the first to speak when the door behind them was closed.

"Did Josh just do what I think he did?" Her voice and expression were flat.

Sam looked at Leo and saw the reflection of his own expression on the Chief of Staff's face, saw the questions in his own mind reflected in Leo's eyes. Sam knew exactly what Leo was thinking, because he was thinking it too.

"Did that seem eerily familiar to you?" Sam asked hesitantly.

A flicker crossed over Leo's face as he sat down behind his desk.

"Does what seem familiar?" Toby questioned.

"When was the last time Josh did something like that in front of the president, Toby?" Sam replied, watching as the realization dawned on the older man's face.

"Ah!" he said quietly.

CJ's eyes widened again as the penny dropped.

"Could he be having some sort of episode, do you think?" Sam spoke quietly. He was worried about Josh – about the president's reaction to his sudden departure and about his friend's mental state, yet he nonetheless felt as though his question were some sort of betrayal.

"Maybe," Leo shrugged his shoulders. "But I still think that Danny had something to do with it. Did he tell you anything CJ?" He reached over to the edge of his desk and pulled a red covered report out from underneath a paperweight.

"No, Leo. Danny didn't say anything to me and all he told the president was that he had spoken to Josh. Danny may be, arrogant, pompous, annoying past the point of infuriation and altogether too intelligent to be normal. But he is also incredibly loyal to his friends.

"Are you describing Danny or Josh there, CJ?" Sam asked allowing a faint smile to touch his lips.

"I think that's why they're friends. Two peas in a pod."

"So how the hell did I become his friend then?" Sam asked.

"Samuel, you my friend, are in the pod too, but you are like the little baby pea at the end. Tender and sweet."

Sam blushed at CJ's comments. Toby just rolled his eyes.

"Oh, for the love of…" Leo groaned. "Can we _please_ get back to the subject at hand?" He prodded the file in his hand. "These are the phone logs from this morning. I had them pulled when we found out that Danny had spoken to Josh." Leo flipped open to the first page. "It shows that Danny only spoke to Josh for a total of 47 seconds at 10.53am. That doesn't seem long enough to get anyone riled up enough to fly halfway across the world."

"Maybe," Toby put in. "But Leo, how seriously are we considering the possibility that Josh is… that Josh has had another… thing?"

"We have to treat it as a real possibility. Yes."

"Leo what's going on between the president and Josh?" Sam blurted out.

"In what respect?" Leo replied carefully.

"Leo, c'mon, how can you say that? We've all seen it. Since May the president has been riding Josh like…." Sam paused trying to find a suitable analogy that wasn't going to get him in a world of trouble with CJ

"A cheap hooker?" Toby finished.

"Nice image there, Tobus!" CJ harrumphed.

"I was actually going to say, 'like the sun wasn't going to rise tomorrow' ," Sam stated, trying to reclaim the moral high ground.

"Sure you were," Toby drawled.

"Is there a point anywhere amongst all that?" Leo interrupted.

"All I was trying to say is that we know something's going on, and we want to know what it is."

"You'll know when you know." Leo's tone offered no chance for opposition. No chance unless you were Toby Ziegler.

"We'll know when we know?" Both his eyebrows shot up. "Is this like a 'Sagittarius' know when we know?"

"Toby!" Sam was genuinely shocked.

"Well, it's a fair question considering we're gearing up for re-election." Toby's voice raised a level as he spoke.

"We are not here to discuss the election." Leo cut them off with a sweep of his hand. "We are not here to discuss personality conflicts between the president and his staff. We are here to try to work out why my deputy has decided that it's appropriate for him to just drop everything in order to trek half way around the world because he misses his assistant!" Leo stopped for a breath.

It was nearly two am and he was shattered. Josh had at least agreed to call them again in a little under twelve hours. Leo needed to get these people out of his office so he could go back to his rooms and sleep, at least for a little while. He prayed that both he and Sam were wrong in thinking that Josh was having another episode. Leo knew that Josh would never be completely free of the PTSD, but he was managing it well. Or at least, he appeared to be. But now he was concerned that recent events – Sam wasn't wrong about the tension that currently lay between the president and Josh – may have been affecting Josh more than Leo realized. It was one thing for him to have a relapse here, within the relative protection of the very insular, sterile town that was Washington DC. It would be another if he had one in the middle of the street in Cairo. He hoped that Josh could get to Danny, or Danny could get to Josh before anything dreadful happened.

Leo removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes and sighed. It was late and they were all frazzled.

"Go home, guys," he sighed quietly. "Go home, get some rest… we'll deal with this in the morning. Or at least," he looked at his watch, "LATER in the morning. At least we know he's safe… for now.


	10. Chapter 10

**Saturday July 6, 2002, Washington DC – 2.15am EST**

Having dismissed his staff, Jed Bartlet took to wandering the darkened halls of the West Wing, something he did from time to time when he was troubled or couldn't sleep. He wasn't ever 'alone' per se; he always had a 'shadow' – his secret service detail – following him. This was something he had realized he would have to get used to when he decided to run for President.

For the rest of his life he would have someone watching over him and not just in the spiritual sense. During his first weeks in the White House, Jed had gone for a few of these late night walks to familiarize himself with the layout of the building. He'd even attempted, once, to have a bit of fun by seeing what would happen if he took off at a run. He learned pretty quickly that his detail were a hell of a lot fitter than he was. The looks they gave him weren't contemptuous or condescending, but he could certainly tell what they were thinking;

_Please don't do that again, sir. It's demeaning for all of us_

Wandering aimlessly, Jed found himself standing at the doorway to Josh's office; maybe he hadn't been so aimless after all.

Opening the door, Jed found the room dark and faintly eerie.

Like most rooms with an outside facing window, Josh's office was never truly dark at night. The White House grounds and buildings were too well lit by the decorative and protective lighting which filtered in through the slatted blinds creating a striped pattern across Josh's untidy desk. He had certainly left in a hurry judging by the look of it – piles of paper and folders were strewn haphazardly over the surface of the desk, there was a stack of post-its and messages and at least two half empty coffee cups on there too, and there were books piled up on the floor. But then again, the state of Josh's office might have had nothing to do with his hasty exit - this might just be clutter that had built up over the last few days – Josh was, after all, not the tidiest person Jed had ever met. He wondered idly what Josh would do if Donna ever decided to advance her career and leave him.

"He'd probably fall apart," Jed said aloud, reaching the same conclusion he had come to earlier in the day when he and his staff had discovered Josh's intended destination.

"I'm sorry, sir?" enquired his young 'shadow'.

"Nothing. I'll be in here a moment, Harry," Jed gestured to Josh's office.

Harry just nodded and took up a position outside the door.

Jed entered the room and walked across to the desk. He ran his hand over the polished wood edging as he moved around it to sit down in Josh's chair. Pulling it across from where it had been left next to the computer desk he sat down with a sigh and switched on the desk lamp.

There had to be something here which could help them work out why Josh had taken off so quickly. Even though Jed knew that Ron and his team would leave no stone unturned in their search, he couldn't help thinking that maybe there was something here – some clue they'd missed.

Wondering where to begin, Jed thought back to the conversation that had ended so abruptly only a couple of hours earlier.

All the while he had been yelling at Josh on the phone, furious that he had run off like he had, Jed had been admonishing himself inside his head.

He had been an asshole to Josh over the past two months. Ever since that fatal night back in May.

The night of the vote on the Welfare Reform bill.

The night of the "War of the Roses" benefit.

The night Simon Donovan had been shot and killed.

The night the President of the United States ordered the assassination – no, murder - of Qumari defense minister Abdul Shareef.

If he were completely honest with himself, that was the real reason for his bad mood over the last few months. As much as he tried to separate the office from the man, the blood of a fellow human being was on his hands and even though that person could have been indirectly responsible for the deaths of a large number of U.S citizens, Jed nonetheless found it a hard decision to live with.

The month of May was far from 'merry' for the Bartlet administration. Two years ago, Josh had nearly lost his life at Rosslyn. Last May had come the dreadful day that had claimed the life of Delores Landingham. And now… well, two years on from Rosslyn, and their luck didn't appear to have changed, not one bit. Jed had no doubt that Josh had picked up on the symbolism of the date.

Of course, as far as Josh knew, Jed's anger towards him over the last two months had been as the result of a welfare reform bill in danger, and later the tragic and untimely death of a secret service agent who had tried to protect them both two years earlier.

Josh didn't know about Shareef. None of the staff did. Hell, Abbey didn't even know.

"You've been an asshole to him, Jed, and for no good reason," he said out loud to himself, thumping the desk with his fist and turning in the chair to look out of the window.

Okay, well maybe there was one good reason. It had been a truly monumental screw up for Josh to have told Amy Gardner about the marriage incentives in the bill in the first place. But even that had been resolved at the cost of Amy's job and her relationship with Josh.

Lost in his thoughts, Jed didn't hear the footsteps approaching Josh's office until -

"I thought I'd find you here."

Jed swung around to see the silhouette of his wife standing in the doorway.

"Come back upstairs, Jed."

Bartlet didn't reply; he just kept staring blankly at Josh's messy desk.

"Why do I do it, Abbey?" he asked finally.

"Do what?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest and leaning against the door jamb.

"Treat Josh differently from the others?"

"In what way?"

"Three days before the Gala in New York, Sam had that fiasco with Kahn over the attack ad and I didn't even bat an eyelid. There was a media frenzy, and I didn't do a thing. _Then_ the thing with the welfare bill crops up… a bill, I might add that the media didn't really care about one way or the other – and I put Josh in the penalty box for two months. Why is he so different?"

Abbey smiled knowingly and walked into the room, around the desk and standing next to her husband, lightly placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Did you know you talk in your sleep, Jed?" she asked, her question coming totally out of left field. "You don't do it often, but three times in the last two years you've just answered your own question in your dreams."

Jed looked mildly surprised. "So what's the answer?"

Perching herself on the edge of the desk so that she was facing him, it was clear to Jed that Abbey wasn't going to let him have the answer that easily.

"The first time was the night after you were shot at Rosslyn. I was sitting next to your bed at GW. The second time was the following Christmas – it was the night of the Congressional party. And then the most recent time was the night before you announced to the nation that you have MS – the night of Delores Landingham's Funeral."

Jed tried to think of what he could possibly have said that would link all three events. The first two were obviously linked - the shooting and the manifestation of Josh's of PTSD. The third… that wasn't related, was it?

Abbey could see her normally brilliant husband struggling to make the connection. "He's … my son."

Jed's head jerked up to look her full in the face.

"Pardon me?"

"You kept muttering, 'he's my son', or variations on it."

Mrs Landingham's Funeral. Of course. He had stood in the nave of the National Cathedral and railed at God. He had called him a feckless thug and wondered if Josh had been a warning shot. And he had called Josh his son.

"Josh is the son you never had, Jed. That's why you treat him that way; you're treating him like a father. I've seen the looks you give Josh so many times before – sometimes you look at him the same way you looked at the girls when they were growing up. It's understandable, I suppose. Josh was the first to be brought onto the campaign. He was the 'first born' so to speak"

"No he wasn't!" Jed disagreed. "Toby was."

"Fair enough, but could you ever see Toby Zeigler as a son?"

Abbey made a good point.

"An annoying younger brother maybe, but not a son. Josh and Sam are both your sons, but Josh is the son of your spirit. He's the one you most identify with. He's idealistic – like you are, but he's also pragmatic – like you are; he sees the same opportunities you do. He may never follow in your footsteps, but he'll do everything he can to please you. He's the eldest child in this bizarre little quasi-family we have."

Jed gave her a sharp look, which Abbey returned with interest.

"I'm not saying that I have a problem with it, Jethro," she teased. "You need a family around you to help you be who you are. Josh is the eldest and as such you treat him that way. Was it any different in your family? Weren't you the one who always had to prove things to your father? Weren't you always the one he was the harshest on?"

Jed hated it when his wife was right.

"Josh is your son in the same way that Leo is your mistress."

There was a metaphorical 'thud' as Jed's jaw hit the ground.

"Leo's my what?"

Abbey laughed, the rich, full sound echoing in the quiet of Josh's office.

"Oh come on, Jed. Don't tell me you haven't heard the stories?"

"What stories?" Jed didn't like where this conversation was heading.

Abbey sighed, and lifting herself off the edge of the desk, walked around to the front and sat in one of the visitor's chairs there.

"When we started here in this nut house, it didn't take long for someone to joke that if I was the wife, then most certainly Leo was the mistress."

Jed scowled.

"Well put it this way, Jed. You spend more time with him than you do with me; you have more fights with him then you do with me and he has about as fair a chance as I do in changing your mind about anything. You listen to him like you listen to me. He's the 'other woman' in our relationship."

"Well, when you look at it that way…." Jed could see where she was coming from. It didn't mean he had to like it.

"And of course you and Leo would be pissed at Josh upping and leaving without any warning. He's a much a son to Leo as he is to you, so…."

Jed could DEFINITELY see where THIS statement was headed.

"Abbey….." he warned. But for all the good it did him, he needn't have bothered.

"…if that's the case; that would make Josh…."

"Abigail…"

"…yours and Leo's…"

"Don't you dare say…"

"…love child."

"ABBEY!"

Abbey Bartlet threw her head back and laughed at the look of horror on her husband's face.

"C'mon you big goofball! Let's go to bed; it's nearly two am, and you'll need to be up in about four hours." She stood up and reached out her hand for him to take. "Leo's already sent the others home and he's headed that way too."

"You spoke to him?"

"Yes, when I came down here to find you."

"Did he say anything?"

"He told me what happened. Jed, he and the others seem to think that Josh might be on the verge of another episode. It would certainly explain his erratic behavior."

"I suppose."

"If he is, we need to get him safe and we need to get him home, soon. Now come on." she stood up and started towards the door. "God, this room smells like a hospital," she said, turning round again.

Jed spun around in the chair to stand up. "Yeah, I noticed it too. Ron told me that it was like someone had emptied the contents of their stomach into the bin… the janitors must have gone overboard with the cleaning fluid." He paused, thinking about what he had just said. "Abbey?" she turned . "Do you think projectile vomiting could be linked to an episode?" he asked as he put two and two together.

"I'm no expert but I'd guess it's possible. Why?"

If what Ron said is true, the only person who could have done that would have been Josh."

Abbey's face grew taught. "What are you going to do?"

Jed drew in a breath and released it slowly.

"I'm going to speak to Stanley Keyworth first thing tomorrow morning and get his take on the situation. For now, I'm going back to the office to contact our Ambassador in Egypt to tell him that when Josh Lyman arrives at the Embassy tomorrow, under no circumstances is he to be allowed to leave. You're night – he needs to be safe right now, even if it does mean being safe from himself. And finally I'm going to do what you suggested, and go to bed. Although what good it'll do me…"

Two hours later, with the order for Josh's remand issued, Jed found himself staring at the ceiling in the master suite, listening to the gentle breathing of his wife lying beside him.

Josh was having an episode. It seemed to fit the bill, but there had to have been triggers, signs that they had all missed along the way – again. It had been Donna who had put two and two together the last time. Would she have spotted this? Jed ran through the last week or so in his mind to see if he could remember anything out of the ordinary. Donna going on vacation…his own treatment of Josh… the En-Com bill… They were all out of the ordinary, especially Donna's getting a vacation, but were they enough to trigger an attack? He just didn't know.

Abbey was right, Josh was like a son to him, and that's why the order he had given just plain sucked.

He felt like he often did when he had made a decision for one of the girls that had been in 'their best interests'. It was always a case of being cruel to be kind, but he began to wonder now whether he'd just been cruel to be… well, without the kind part. He cared very deeply about his staff; they were an extension of his family and to see them in pain hurt him deeply.

Rolling over onto his side, Jed closed his eyes. Ron suspected the answer might lie in the memory of the hard drive on Josh's computer. But it was going to take a few more hours before they found out anything, and there was nothing he could do now but wait. Sighing, he turned over and tried to get some sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Saturday July 6, 2002. Cairo – 10.00am local time**

Josh let Danny lead him to a waiting car parked off to one side of the airport. There he was introduced to Ahmed; Danny's contact co-worker here in Egypt.

"Mr Lyman. Good to meet you – wish it was under better circumstances."

"Call me Josh," he said taking the man's hand.

They quickly loaded Josh's bags into the car and headed towards the Marriott Hotel.

Danny apparently knew his hotels. Surrounded by four acres of landscaped gardens, rising majestically to 20 stories, the Marriott enjoyed a superb location overlooking the Nile. When they stopped at the end of the tree-lined driveway, the door on his side of the car was opened by a good-looking young man who bowed slightly. Josh stepped out and looked around.

The courtyard was made of a marble and high polished stone inlay of three distinct colors ranging from rust to light cream. Bubbling away happily on either side of the main entrance were two fountains; and lights designed to represent hanging braziers lined the archways on either side of the courtyard.

Josh tried very hard not to look like a tourist. Frankly, it was difficult.

Danny looked at his friend and laughed.

"Come on." He nodded his head in the direction of the main doors and walked off towards them, stopping just before they reached the front desk.

"Wait here a second." Danny held his hand up to stop Josh mid stride.

He watched as Danny walked over to the front desk, spoke briefly to the clerk behind it and held out his hand, returning a moment later.

"I've told them that you're my business partner, that you're waiting for a connecting flight and that you just need somewhere to crash for a few hours, so you won't be staying here with me," he explained as the three of them walked over towards the elevators.

"Why'd you do that?" Josh was genuinely intrigued as they stepped into the empty elevator. Danny hit the button for the 6th floor.

"I'll tell you when we're in the room." Josh just nodded and stared at the illuminated numbers above the door until they reached '6'. The doors opened and Danny stepped out, Josh at his heels, turning right down a long passageway. "627, that's me." Danny slid the keycard in and out with practiced ease and the door unlocked.

Watching that simple act, Josh felt a tightening in his chest. He'd never been able to get the hang of those things, so Donna would always have to resort to yanking the card out of his hand and opening the door for him. He could just imagine his explanation to the president and Leo – "I had to get Donna out – it was either that or spend the rest of my life stuck outside hotel room doors!" Yeah – that would go down well.

Shaking his head slightly, Josh followed Danny into the room – which was…

"Nice!" Josh drawled appreciatively. "Danny you've gone up in the world! The 'Post' is paying for this?" Josh dropped his bags on the ground.

"Hah! Not likely!" Danny snorted as he reached into the minibar and, pulling out three bottles of water, handed one each to Josh and Ahmed. "Have a seat."

Josh flopped down into one of the carver styled armchairs around a table covered in papers, note pads and a laptop.

"So why didn't you want me checking in?" He took a swig of his water. "I'm going to be here for more than a day you know. Unless you know something you're not telling me?" He felt that tightening in his chest again, jumped out of the chair and started wandering around the room.

"No, nothing like that," Danny attempted reassurance. "But I do have some news and that's why I didn't want you checking in under your own name," he eyed Josh up and down. "Man - you still look like shit! Go have a shower - freshen up and then we'll talk, okay?"

Josh wanted to protest, but his tired muscles and body told him do what the man said.

Groaning as he lifted his carryall onto the other double bed in the room and unzipped it, Josh looked at the contents of his luggage. He pulled out another pair of jeans and shirt and giving both men a weary smile, headed into the bathroom.

Everywhere he looked, he saw marble. Josh looked longingly at the huge corner spa, but opted instead for a cool shower in a well appointed cubicle with more nozzles and sprays than your average automated carwash.

Stripping off, Josh stepped under the showerhead and turned it on. The chilly water blasting from the head made him jump, so he adjusted the temperature to a more bearable level and let the tepid water run coursing over him. He washed quickly and then just stood in the spray for a few minutes, taking deep breaths, trying to slow down the myriad of thoughts rushing through his brain. Realizing he could quite easily fall asleep on his feet right now, Josh slowly turned the hot water mixer down until the water flowing over him was nearly cold. Feeling somewhat revitalized as a result, he turned the water off and stepped out. Drying himself off with a towel he dressed quickly before stepping out of the bathroom, scrubbing at his hair with a towel.

"Feeling better?" Danny asked, looking up from his laptop.

"Yeah, a bit, "Josh replied sitting down opposite him. Tossing the towel onto another chair, he ran his hands through his damp hair and scratched the back of his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but Danny beat him to it.

"Okay. So – what do you want to know?"

"Everything" – this was what he'd been waiting for.

Danny took a deep breath.

"Well, this all started about eight months ago. I'd been doing a story about indentured villages in Rwanda. You know, there are entire villages selling themselves into slavery to war-lords in order to sustain themselves. Anyway, while I was working on the story, I came across a young girl in one village who was being auctioned off by her father so that he could raise the money to pay off the rest of his family's debt. As if that wasn't bad enough, I found out that she was eventually bought by a westerner – and that this was far from unusual. It turns out that gentlemen of Middle European descent were coming in droves to make offers for these girls. The girls believed that they were going to be getting jobs back in Europe that could help their families." Danny's face darkened into a scowl. "They were getting work all right. In brothels. I followed the trail back through eastern Europe and discovered that some of the biggest 'employers' and I use that word loosely, were Russian ex-military who'd turned to their Mafioso pals to help them set up a viable source of income after the fall of the communist block." Danny paused, indignation and disgust for the trade in human flesh he was describing etched on his face. "To cut a long story short, I've been going back and forth between the Middle East, Africa and Europe, looking for the best way to expose what's going on. The current crop of 'traders' I'm after are the biggest players I've been able to track to date."

Danny gulped down some water, giving Josh the opportunity to finally ask the question which had been going through his mind ever since he'd received Danny's e-mail.

"So how the hell did Donna get involved in all this?"

Danny reached over and tossed a hauntingly familiar looking document onto the table in front of Josh.

"Ahmed used his street contacts and discovered that there was going to be a pretty big sale here in Cairo some time in the next couple of days. I'd been waiting for the details when he brought me this."

Hesitantly, Josh leaned forward to pick up the booklet, feeling for a split second as though if he didn't touch it, didn't look at it, Donna's face wouldn't be there, that this whole thing would turn out to be a bad dream. But… shaking his head gently, as if to clear his thoughts, Josh picked it up, and realised that this was the booklet which Danny had used to send the e-mail. He had been right about quality of the workmanship. A yellow post it tab stuck out the side of one of the back pages, and with shaking fingers, Josh forced himself to flip open the page. His breathing grew shallower as he found himself once again staring at Donna's haunted face.

So it was real. It wasn't some elaborate joke or nightmare. Donna was here and she was in danger.

Sitting opposite Josh, Danny could see the emotions flicking wildly over his friend's face. His own stomach curdled when he thought of what could be happening to Donna. He hated to think about it, but generally she would have been safer if she had been a virgin - her captors wouldn't want 'soiled merchandise'. But as things stood... well, anything could happen.

Josh flicked a couple of pages backward and forward, not really looking, when suddenly Danny saw his gaze focus as he leaned in closer to the page.

"Hey! I know this girl!" Josh turned the booklet around to show Danny the photo of a very attractive young woman of middle-eastern origin.

"What? How?" Danny sat bolt upright in his chair.

"Her name's…. Nakita? No… Nai… Naima!" His eyes sparked at the memory of the girl's name. "She was the girl Donna was going on holiday with. God, I hope I can remember." Josh leant forward in the seat and propped his elbows on his knees. Running his hands over his face and hair, he started hesitatingly… "She's the granddaughter of a former Egyptian Ambassador to the US. She and Donna were in school together, they've been friends for years."

It was something else to add to the mystery.

Danny shot a glance in Ahmed's direction.

Ahmed nodded. "I'll look into it straight away," he said.

"So, you never did tell me - what's with the room? Josh asked changing the subject for the moment, his brain needing some time to process everything. "This is a little expensive for an expense account paid hotel room surely, even for the Washington Post? And why didn't you want me checking in? I'm just sayin' – Danny, I respect your abilities as a journalist, but I don't think this is gonna be over in a day."

Josh walked back over to the table and sat down, stretching his legs out to one side, one of which was bouncing nervously. Danny shifted around so that he was facing him. "Firstly, as I said, no way is the Post paying for this. This is coming out of my own pocket – I'll just claim it back in this year's tax. The Post has me holed up in some dingy three star about five blocks from the local office. No - I booked in here about two days ago when I first got wind that the sale was going to be in Cairo. The time and date I put in my e-mail - that's when the next 'meeting' is taking place – that's the starting point where everything kicks off. These things seem to happen in a certain way - the potential buyers meet for a drink and then they're then taken to another location to inspect the 'merchandise'. After that, they're brought back here to do the actual bidding. I've been able to find out that the man who runs the show goes by the name 'Darius' - and I've got to tell you Josh, he only runs with high class, credentialed buyers."

"Credentialed? How the hell do you become 'credentialed' in this?" Josh asked in astonishment.

"He does background checks, in other words," Amhed supplied. "You don't come up to scratch - he won't come near you."

"So, you have all this information - why aren't you going to the authorities?"

"We can't, Josh," Danny sighed.

"What! The story's still more important?" Josh's voice, as it often did when he was stressed, had leaped up about an octave.

"Damn it, Josh! No!" Danny exploded, slamming his hand down on the table. "That's not it! Don't you think if I thought for a _second_ that by simply calling in the local police I'd be able to get Donna and the rest of those girls out I would have done it by now? Jesus, Josh! You have no idea what sort of danger I would put Donna - and myself – in, if I did that! The reason Darius can be picky about his clientele is that he's spent a lifetime developing 'contacts' everywhere. I go to the cops – he'd know about it. Do you want this meeting moved to another time, another place where I might not be able to get the information until it was too late!"

As the truth of Danny's statement set in, Josh gulped hard and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Danny," he said quietly. "I didn't think."

"Hey, that's okay," Danny sighed. "And the reason I didn't want you checking in, was because I wanted to scope out the lie of the land before announcing to the likes of Darius that Josh Lyman of the White House was in the building."

"He'd know me?" Josh was surprised.

"I'm sure he would. Josh, when you were shot at Rosslyn, the Post's affiliate papers ran the story. You made news all over the world, including here. You might not be known to the general populus, but the people who need to, know who you are, and what your connection is to the White House. Can you imagine what would happen if it was discovered that Josh Lyman was seen anywhere near a flesh market? And the sort of people you'd be dealing with would have no hesitation in making that bit of information generally available if they were aware you were here." Standing up, Danny glanced at his watch. "It's nearly eleven. I'd better show my face at the office or they'll start to wonder. What time did you say you were going to the embassy?"

"Sometime around eight this evening."

"OK. Stay here in the room, and try to get some sleep, will ya? I'll go to the office and back to my other hotel and grab a couple of things. I'll make some enquiries about this other girl too. See if I can find out who she is and why her family hasn't reported her missing."

"Oh, I can probably tell you that," Josh said. "Before I left I called Donna's mom to see if she had heard Donna was missing. She hadn't - and the reason she gave was that Naima's cousin… Rumi, or Runi… something like that – had taken them on a camping expedition somewhere and they weren't expected back until the weekend. So it's entirely possible that Naima's relatives don't know she's missing."

Danny was frantically scribbling down what Josh was saying.

"Okay – I'll look into that - see if I can get any info on this Runi guy."

Josh was getting restless again, and had started pacing back and forth on his side of the table. "I keep asking myself - how did Donna get involved in this in the first place?"

"It could have been as easy as someone ambushing them on the camping trip. It's not unheard of. Out of the way place, no one around, bam! Hog-tied and sold. I wouldn't be surprised if we find the cousin lying face down in a ditch somewhere." Danny's expression softened at the flicker of pain that he saw in Josh's eyes. "Get some rest. We'll be back as soon as we can."

Grabbing his satchel Danny moved towards the door, Ahmed following,

"Danny?"

He turned back.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"No, I mean it. Thanks; thanks for coming to me with this, and not making this… a thing, y'know…"

Danny smiled and nodded towards the bed.

"Sleep, will ya?"

After Danny and Ahmed closed the door, Josh sat on the edge of the queen sized bed and then, swinging his legs up, curled himself into a semi foetal position on his right hand side. Despite the thousand thoughts rampaging through his brain he soon sank into an oblivion born of anxiety and exhaustion.


	12. Chapter 12

**Saturday July 6, 2002. Washington DC – 7.15am EST**

After being sent home by Leo, CJ, Sam and Toby had, in fact, migrated to CJ's apartment where they'd sat talking until the early hours. At around six, CJ came to and remembered looking at her watch last at around 4.30… 90 minutes sleep had been, frankly, more than she expected to get that night, but she couldn't help wondering if she'd be feeling better if she'd not slept at all. Her head was throbbing and as she pulled herself up out of her chair and headed in search of some Advil, she blearily noted that Sam and Toby were still asleep at either ends of the sofa.

CJ had woken them up and then sent them home to get cleaned up sometime around dawn. Taking the same opportunity she showered and changed and headed straight back into the office.

As she walked through the eerily quiet Operations bullpen she noticed that Josh's office door was now closed – it hadn't been the previous night. Testing the handle out of curiosity she found it locked and she couldn't help feeling that that was a disturbing development. Hurrying to her own office, she dropped her laptop and bag down on her sofa before heading over to Leo's. Margaret was already there and informed her that Leo was in and had meetings all morning, but that he wanted the senior staff to meet in the Oval at noon.

CJ couldn't help feeling rather deflated at this news – she had hoped that there would have been some developments in the short time she'd been away from the office – that something would have come up for her to do or deal with that could help Josh or help resolve this whole confusing situation. Feeling defeated, she was heading back towards her office when she saw Toby and Sam shuffle through the bay doors.

"Hey," Sam said wearily as he saw her.

"Hey, Spanky."

"I really wish you wouldn't call me that."

"Too bad."

"Weren't we here just a moment ago?" Toby grumbled as he walked into his office and flicked on the light.

"Aren't we always here?" CJ sighed, moving to lean against the doorframe.

"Yeah," Toby agreed quietly. They looked at each other for a few seconds before Toby spoke again. "Do we go and see Leo, or what?"

"I've just come from there," CJ sighed. "Margaret said he's in meetings until noon. We're to meet in the Oval for a briefing then." She paused and lowered her voice, conspiratorially. "Did you know that Josh's office is locked?"

"No - really?" Toby raised his eyebrows.

CJ raised her own in response.

"So where does that leave us?" Sam asked.

"I really have no idea," CJ sighed again. "I'm gonna…." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of the lobby and her office.

"Yeah…" Toby sat down at his desk, looking for all the world as though he had no idea what he was doing there. Sam simply nodded and headed in the direction of the coffee machine.

Just before noon, the three of them gathered in the Oval to await the President's arrival.

They hadn't been there long when the door from the portico opened and the president walked in, with Leo right behind him.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"Please sit." The three staffers took up places on the sofas as Leo and the President sat in the two carver armchairs nearest the desk. "Leo told me what you discussed after leaving the office last night. Would it surprise you to know that I was coming to a similar conclusion myself?" When they shook their heads, the president smiled. "And Abbey doesn't like my deductive reasoning skills," he joked. "About two am this morning, I had reason to find myself in Josh's office and, well, I'll spare you the details, but I started thinking later that there was some sort of clue there as to what had set him off. " Jed eyed his staff carefully, seeing shock and surprise on their faces in varying degrees.

"And then it hit me. I know Leo told you that Danny's conversation with Josh lasted for all of 47 seconds. And I kept thinking – that's not a lot of time for Josh to be told something he decided was so important that he needed to drop everything and head off to Egypt. But – supposing it wasn't the phone call that had him running off – supposing the phone call had simply been a precursor? What if the phone call had been 'hey I'm sending you an e-mail'? So this morning at 5am I had a meeting with Leo and Ron Butterfield. Ron had taken Josh's hard drive to see if Danny did indeed send him an e-mail."

Bartlet paused, waiting for his words to sink in.

"Ron had the administrator unlock Josh's account. but the e-mail wasn't there - he'd deleted it from his PC and the server. He even forwarded a copy to his private account before he left, so all we know right now is that there was an e-mail and an attachment. Ron's people resurrected the e-mail – all it had in it was a time and a date. But the attachment… well I know even less about these damned things than you do, except they always foul up when you need them the most. We've had to send it over to Mike Casper and his team at their lab. The report should be back sometime this afternoon."

He took a deep breath, knowing that what he was about to suggest was probably going to come as a bit of a shock.

"I should also tell you that I spoke to Stanley Keyworth this morning."

CJ's head jerked up immediately. "What did he have to say?"

The president shook his head gently. "He said that considering the symptoms we've started to notice, yes, it's quite possible that Josh is having a relapse."

CJ looked stunned. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words were forthcoming. She looked helplessly at Sam.

"What did he suggest?" he asked.

"That we get him to speak to someone as soon as possible."

"That's going to be a little difficult, sir, seeing as he's on the other side of the world right now."

"Yes - but in under an hour he's about to walk back on to American soil."

Leo knew that comment was coming, but the others didn't. You could have heard a pin drop as a stunned silence settled over the room.

"Sir - just what are you planning on doing?" Toby asked.

As Chief of Staff, and Josh's direct superior, Leo took over at this point. He knew it had unsettled the President enough to have to give the order in the first place, without having to go over it again.

"When Josh arrives, the embassy's staff has been given instructions to treat him as though nothing is wrong. We don't want to stir anything up too soon, and he's going to be allowed to make his phone call from a secure line. If anyone is going to tell him this, it's going to be me. The decision has been made for Josh Lyman to be relieved of his duties as Deputy Chief of Staff until his mental state has been properly evaluated. He's going to be taken to the American University Hospital for that evaluation and any necessary treatment."

A silence, even heavier than the one before, descended on the room, making the atmosphere feel almost suffocating. When CJ finally spoke, she felt as though she had been silent for hours, although in reality, it had been merely a few seconds.

"Oh, my God," she breathed, her eyes filling with tears of shock as she addressed the president. "Sir - you can't be serious? You can't ..."

"What choice do we have?" Sam muttered. CJ looked at him in amazement.

"What?" She flicked a swift glance at Toby to make sure that her ears hadn't deceived her. "What did you say?"

"We don't have any choice, CJ" Sam said, louder this time.

"SAM! Oh, my God, you too! I would have expected something like that from Toby… but you? You're his _friend_ for God's sake!"

If Toby felt any chagrin at CJ's implication, he chose to let it pass, remaining silent as Sam went on.

"Yes, CJ, I _am_ his friend," Sam snapped, his voice cracking. "And that's why I _know_ we don't have any choice in this." Sam rose to his feet and started pacing in a fair imitation of Josh. "CJ, you weren't in here three days before Christmas two years ago. You weren't in this room when he lost it. I don't want this to happen, God knows I don't! I want Josh to be back here, and safe, and the person he has always been." The calm Seaborn resolve crumbled before them. "I want my friend back, CJ! And if the way to do that…. if it means we have to protect him from himself, then I say do it. I love him like a brother, CJ – and I want to help him. You have to believe that." Sam sat, now physically shaking, slowly clenching and unclenching his hands.

"CJ," the President said gently, "We all want what's best for Josh - and if that means we have to look out for him when he can't look out for himself," he sighed, "that's what we need to do. I didn't want to give that order, but I have to consider all the options, and at the moment, it seems as though this is the best available."

"Yes, sir. I know, but… I just keep thinking… could we all be over-reacting here?"

"CJ, I keep thinking that every moment. But until we see evidence to the contrary…"

There was a knock, and Charlie appeared in the doorway.

"Sir? Josh on line one for you."

Jed clenched his teeth and stood up. Walking back to his desk, he sat down and punched the conference call button on the phone, despising himself for what he was about to do.

"Josh?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Saturday July 6, 2002. Cairo – 7.10pm Local Time**

Danny returned to the Marriott just after 7pm.

Josh had woken up about an hour before and had been in the middle of reading all the information that Danny had left behind about Donna's abductors when the door swung open and Danny all but stumbled into the room. He looked hot, flustered and dirty.

"Damn it! I love my job, but next time I get offered an international assignment, it had better be in the Bahamas!" He walked over and flung his satchel on the bed. "Did you get any rest?"

Josh raised an eyebrow. "Funny, you don't look like my mother."

"I've met your mother remember," Danny shot back.

"Hey!"

"No seriously, were you able to get any rest?"

"Yeah – I crashed about ten minutes after you left and I only woke up about an hour ago."

"Great." Danny reached for the phone. "You want anything to eat?"

"Nah, I'm fine."

"Ahkay." Danny replaced the phone in the cradle. "Well let me get cleaned up and we'll head for the Embassy. It's only about a ten minute ride."

"Were you able to get anything on Donna's friend? Naima?"

"Yeah" Danny called over the running water. "Her name is Naima Carter. You were right; as far as her family here in Egypt are concerned she's gone on an expedition with her cousin Runihura or Runi for short and Donna. Incidentally – Runihura means 'Destroyer'."

"Oh, wonderful," Josh replied sarcastically.

"They left town on the 5th for a five day trek."

"Well that would fit in with what Donna's mom told me before I left."

The water in the bathroom stopped running.

"I've got Ahmed back at the office trying to trace their movements. If we can find out where they were headed we can try and work out what the hell happened." Danny stepped out of the bathroom vigorously towel-drying his hair. Abruptly, he changed the subject. "Have you worked out what you're going to tell them?"

Josh had given his options a lot of thought. His biggest problem during the last phone call had been the fact that both the president and Leo were angry.

"Hopefully they'll have had a chance to calm down. So I was thinking I should probably tell them the truth."

"Really?" Danny stopped and stared at Josh.

"Well this time I'm going to be on a secure line. That makes it easier."

"Okay, well… you ready?" Danny threw the towel down on the bed and picked up his satchel again.

"As I'm ever gonna be."

Danny was right; the taxi trip – though more than a bit harrowing – only took them about ten minutes.

The city lights shone majestically all around them reflecting off the gently lapping waters of the Nile as they drove by. Rounding the corner onto Latin America Street, Josh saw the floodlit compound that made up the American Embassy.

"Here, please." Danny said, as the driver pulled over.

Jumping out, Josh stood and stared at the imposing buildings that took up most of the block. A light hand on his shoulder caused him to turn round.

"I'll wait over there," Danny said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of a small café across the road. "Good luck."

Josh just nodded in thanks and walked up to the guard station.

He pulled out his White House credentials and handed them through the pass way to the young guard.

"My name is Josh Lyman…" was as far as he got.

"Good evening, Mr Lyman, we've been expecting you." The young marine opened the gate and let Josh in. He signalled to another guard who came over to meet them. "Corporal James will escort you from here."

"This way, sir."

Falling into step with the young corporal Josh was lead inside the Embassy proper. The first thing he noticed was the seal of the President proudly on display behind the reception desk. Josh couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt as he passed it.

"Mr Lyman?" a new voice called. Josh turned to his left and saw a man, about his own age striding towards him. "Mr Lyman? My name is Russell O'Neill. I'm the communications attaché to the Ambassador." He held out his hand. "I'm sorry the Ambassador couldn't be here, but he had a previous engagement that he couldn't break." Josh shook the proffered hand.

"That's fine. And please, call me Josh."

"Okay then, Josh. If you'd like to come this way, we've arranged a secure line for you."

They had walked a short distance along a tiled corridor when O'Neill stopped. Opening the door into a basically equipped room, he gestured for Josh to enter and moved to sit down in one of the two seats. He waved towards the other, indicating that Josh should sit too. But Josh didn't sit, however – he was too keyed up, too nervous about what he had to do next to be able to even think about sitting still.

"I must say," O'Neill broke the silence that had fallen between them, "that we were rather surprised when the president called this morning and said that you were going to be coming."

"President Bartlet called you?" Josh couldn't help but be surprised. He'd been pretty certain that someone would have phoned the embassy to let them know he was coming, but he had thought it would be Leo. Not the president. "When was that?" he asked cautiously.

Josh saw the change of expression on O'Neill's face. He recognised it because it was something he often did himself – the shutters came down, his face became blank, as though there was something there he didn't want Josh to see. His jaw rippled slightly as if he were biting on his words.

"I don't remember."

He was lying. And Josh knew it. Something wasn't right here and Josh just couldn't put his finger on it. Suddenly, he wanted this man out of the room.

"Well, if you'll excuse me..." he said, speaking with a lightness he didn't feel, "I have to phone our boss." Josh picked up the receiver to emphasize his point.

"Certainly, Josh. Dial one, one, two for the stateside operator." O'Neill nodded and left without saying another word.

Josh picked up the phone and dialled the number. When he got through to the State Department switchboard he requested he be put through to the White House. Within a few moments he was being connected to Charlie's line.

"Charlie Young."

"Charlie? It's Josh." He was suddenly glad to hear a familiar voice.

"Hey, Josh," Charlie replied, his voice the same as the thousands of times Josh had heard it before, but again, underneath, there was something… subtly different to it. "How's the weather?"

"Hot," was Josh's one word response. "Look, Charlie, as much as I'd love to chat, they're probably waiting for me so…" he left the sentence hanging.

"Yeah, I'll just let them know." The conversation was replaced with the universally hellish hold music of telephone systems the world over. Less than a minute later, the music cut off, to be replaced by a familiar voice

"Josh?"

"Yes, Mr President." Well this was a good start – at least he wasn't yelling this time.

"It's good to hear from you again, Josh. Leo, CJ, Sam and Toby are all here with me. How are you feeling?"

"I'm… fine, sir," Josh frowned. "And how are you?"

"Good, good… we're all good."

"That's nice." Josh's frown deepened as his brain tried frantically to work out what on earth was going on.

"It's not too hot over there is it? Staying someplace nice?"

What the hell? This was getting weirder by the minute. Josh had come in here expecting to be beaten about the head with a metaphorical two by four, but small talk? He'd certainly not been expecting that!

He decided to cut to the chase

"Sir; as much as I'd love to discuss the climate of Cairo with you, don't you think we should talk about, well, the reason I've called?"

"Whatever you want to talk about is fine with us, Josh," Sam's voice filtered down the line. "Just talk to us."

"Sam?" Josh was starting to get a headache from all the frowning he was doing. "Mr President. I know that you and Leo are well within your rights to be…. annoyed that I left without a word, but there's a reason behind it – a very good one."

"Yeah, we think we know, kid." Leo spoke for the first time.

"How?"

"Josh - we know that you had a call from Danny and then you left the office." It was apparently CJ's turn now. "What was in the e-mail he sent you?" Her words were spoken with great care.

So they had found out about the e-mail. But something still wasn't right – surely if they'd actually seen the e-mail, nobody would be questioning his actions? He'd deleted the original from his system, but he knew that any of the lowliest IT guys could have resurrected it.

"Do you really need to ask?" he replied.

"Humor us." _Ahh, Toby_. So the whole gang was all there after all.

"The picture of Donna and the information? She's in trouble."

"No, Josh." The president cut back in, his voice stern. "She's on vacation - she's not in trouble. Look - I know you miss her and that I've been a little hard on you the last couple of months." He sighed, then continued, "I'm sorry for that - and we shouldn't have thrown you in on that En-Com bill either. We'll fix that when you come home."

Josh only heard about half of what the President had said. Donna wasn't in trouble? They claimed to have seen the e-mail Danny sent - and they were telling him she wasn't in trouble?

"What? Have you guys all gone nuts or something over there?" Josh half laughed, putting the hand that wasn't holding the phone on his hip and starting to pace as far as the phone cord would allow.

The silence at the other end of the line was deafening.

He stopped moving, as several things fell into place all at once. The president calling the Embassy. O'Neill's reluctance to answer his questions. Everybody's sudden 'buddy, buddy' attitude towards him. The silence after his 'nuts' comment.

What if they hadn't seen the attachment? What if all they had to go on was the fact that he had suddenly upped and left the White House for no apparent reason and then hung up on the President not twelve hours later..?

"Holy shit," he whispered.

"Josh?" The president drew his name out longer than necessary. "Talk to me, Josh."

"Mr President… I… uh… I think I should go now." Josh resumed his pacing, glancing at the door whilst wondering if what he suspected was going on could possibly be happening, or if he really was becoming paranoid.

"NO!"

The shouted response from five different voices made Josh jump slightly.

"What we mean is..." Bartlet said, taking control, "we want to help you; we want you to stay and talk to us."

Josh came to a dead stop, everything suddenly coming into sharp focus in his mind.

"Sir, am I jumping to conclusions here? Or do you all think that I am having a… 'thing'?"

Again the silence answered his question for him.

"Oh, my God! You do."

"We just want you home," Sam said.

"Sam, listen to me - I'm not joking." Josh could feel his anger growing again. "I don't know what happened to the attachment that should be with that e-mail, but believe me when I say this: Donna's here and she _is_ in trouble. Danny contacted me to see where she was, then he sent me the e-mail. And I'm not leaving here without her."

"Josh. We want you to stop there at the Embassy and talk to some people Okay?" Leo tried.

Now Josh was really angry. Not only did they think that he had had a nutty and flown the coop, but now they were going to try and deny him his one chance to help Donna.

"I'm sorry Leo, but I can't," Josh said and hung up the phone.

Later, when he had had a chance to calm down and think things over rationally, Josh would be touched by the concern the others had shown for him, but right at that minute his brain was racing with a thousand emotions. He was angry - he was shocked - he was worried - he was…

…he was pretty sure that the staff at the Embassy had been told they were not to let him leave.

It would only take a few seconds for the White House to call and tell O'Neill to book the nice room with the padded walls for Josh. Somehow, he had to pre-empt it.

Reaching down, he yanked the phone cord from the wall. A faulty phone line - they couldn't blame him for that. He had one chance and for Donna's sake, he had to make this work.

Josh took a deep breath and opened the door into the hallway. As he'd suspected, both O'Neill and Corporal James stood outside the door.

"Um, excuse me Russell?" Josh asked, his face suitably puzzled. "I was in the middle of my conversation and the line just went dead."

O'Neill frowned slightly.

"Oh Okay. Let me look at it for you." He pushed himself away from the wall and walked into the room.

Josh happened to glance down at the door handle under his hand just at that moment and noticed the brass key sitting in the lock. Shit! They were prepared to lock him in there if necessary. Well, that made things a whole lot easier.

Josh stepped to one side to let O'Neill into the room and watched as he went over to the phone and picked up the receiver.

"Do you mind?" Josh asked sheepishly. "While you're sorting it out, can you point me towards the men's room?"

O'Neill glanced up from his inspection of the phone. "Sure. Corporal James, can you show Mr… Hey!"

Apparently, O'Neill had looked down and seen the cable dangling loose from the wall. His sudden exclamation was the break Josh needed, and as Corporal James turned instinctively to look at O'Neill, Josh shoved against him with all his strength, launching him into the room. Josh slammed the door shut and turned the key.

That was the easy part. Now came the hard bit - getting back outside the compound. Josh stuck his hands into his pockets and began to walk back down the hall as nonchalantly as possible, ignoring the banging and shouting that was coming from the office he had just left. A couple of custodians glanced in his direction but then went back to their work.

Stepping out onto the front steps, Josh instantly saw his problem; namely about 500 feet of floodlit, open courtyard. There was no way he could scale the perimeter fence. And, quite frankly, he didn't want to.

His only way out was through the main gate or the little side gate he had entered through. Josh didn't think that he'd be able to sneak out of the guard-house gate because they'd probably been alerted to his situation as well.

Cursing, Josh was considering his options when two things happened simultaneously. Firstly, a group of about six young female workers emerged from one of the side doors, looking as though they were headed home; and secondly, the main gates opened as a delivery truck rolled up. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Josh stepped casually down behind the young women and sauntered along like he should be there.

Suddenly there was a horrific smash somewhere behind him and he realized the door to the room in which he had locked O'Neill and the Corporal must have given way. Stepping up his pace slightly, Josh glanced over his shoulder.

Corporal James was the first out the door, his side arm drawn, with O'Neill not three feet behind. They both looked around briefly before O'Neill made eye contact with Josh.

"Mr Lyman! he bellowed. "Stop!"

Throwing caution to the wind, Josh did the only sane thing he could think of. He took off.

Somewhere behind him he could hear voices calling at him to stop, but he ignored them and sprinted as fast as he could towards the opened main gate. At the periphery of his vision, Josh could see that the guard who had been checking the driver's credentials was now starting to move in his direction, and was in fact on a course to intercept him.

At that moment, something happened which was very nearly Josh's undoing. A shot rang out in the night followed in quick succession by two others. The guard who had been headed for Josh stared in horror back up towards the building and dove for cover behind the truck.

The sound of the shots, combined with the noise of the traffic from outside, the glare of the floodlights - in any other situation that particular combination would have stopped Josh dead in his tracks. But something deeper, more primal kept his legs moving in a flat out run. For the first time in his life Josh wanted to get off American soil.

Another few steps and he'd be home free. The gates started to close and Josh saw the other gatekeeper lurch towards him. Weaving suddenly, like a college quarterback, Josh threw himself through the closing gates. As the metallic clang echoed behind him, he stumbled forward into the side door of a passing car and bounced back to the curb.

Around him there was chaos. People were screaming and running in every direction. Josh, dazed and exhausted by his sudden flight, was only dimly aware of Danny who had come running over from the café.

"What the hell?" Danny yelled

"Get me out of here," Josh panted.

Now that the adrenaline which had been buoying him up was dissipating, Josh realised that he was feeling pretty shaky. As Danny helped him to his feet, Josh realised it was unlikely he could have made it much further on his own, and was appreciative of the support. Glancing back over his shoulder, Josh could see the furious attaché staring out at him through the closed gates. Josh allowed himself a mock wave before Danny helped him down the road.

The noise of the gunshots had caused the traffic outside to come to a standstill. As they reached the end of the street, Danny hailed a cab with a piercing whistle and slid Josh into the back seat.

"The Marriott," he said curtly to the driver.

Once in the safety of the car, and on their way back to the hotel, Danny turned to Josh, who was leaning back in the seat with his eyes closed, twisting one wrist in the fingers of his other hand.

"Jesus, Josh, what was that about?"

Josh took several long and deep breaths, trying to quell the panic he could feel rising in every pore, and focus his mind on things other than the fact that he'd just been shot at – again.

"Well - I was wrong," he managed to choke out. "Apparently, the suit the president was trying to fit me for doesn't have arrows. Just some really, really long arms," Josh coughed, his chest burning. Instinctively he clutched at it, leaning forward and putting his head between his knees.

"Josh, you need to be speaking English right about now."

Josh could hear the worry in his friend's voice. Danny was one of the few people outside the senior staff who knew about Josh's PTSD. But he'd never seen him having an attack, and Josh knew he would have no idea what to do if this was going to turn into one.

"In a minute." Josh needed to focus. He needed to get his brain to realise that he wasn't back at Rosslyn, that he hadn't been shot, that he was here in Cairo looking for Donna. Leaning his head back, he took a series of slow, deep breaths holding them for a count of five and releasing them. Slowly the tightness in his chest dissipated. The bitter taste of the adrenalin disappeared and the brass quintet playing in his head faded, to be replaced by the dull roar of the passing traffic. "Well if they didn't already think I was having an episode, it was nice of them try to give me the experience."

"What are you talking about?"

Josh looked at the worried expression on Danny's face.

"You know what happened the Christmas after Rosslyn don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Well apparently, my esteemed colleagues back home, think I'm heading for a re-enactment."

"Did you tell them why you were here?"

"I didn't get the chance. They have it in their minds that I've had some sort of nutty and have flown halfway around the world because my assistant went on vacation."

"Well, I guess it would seem a little strange from their point of view don't you think?"

"Right now I don't want to think. I just want to get somewhere safe. Are you sure no-one from your work knows you're staying at the Marriott?"

"Apart from Ahmed? Yeah."

"Good. I have a feeling my face might just be a little too popular around here for a while."


	14. Chapter 14

**Saturday July 6, 2002. Washington DC – 1.10pm EST**

The line went dead for the second time in twenty four hours.

This time Jed Bartlet knew exactly what he had to do.

"DAMN IT, CHARLIE GET THE EMBASSY IN CAIRO BACK ON THIS PHONE NOW!"

His roar could probably have been heard in the Capitol Building.

"I WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED AND I WANT TO KNOW NOW!"

Jed's anger this time was more out of fear for Josh than any real anger at his actions. They still didn't know what was going on inside his mind and they needed to get him safe until they did.

The other occupants of the room had handled Josh's reaction in different ways. Toby remained impassive, sitting utterly still on the couch. CJ, her eyes filled with concern stood closely by Leo's side. And Sam, doing a more than passable impersonation of Josh, paced frantically.

The door of the private office opened and Charlie stepped in. "Sir? I have the embassy on line one, and Mike Casper and Ron Butterfield are here to see you."

"They can wait a moment," Jed said irritably reaching for the phone.

"They say it's urgent, sir."

Jed looked at Leo.

"I'll take the embassy, you talk to Ron." Leo held out his hand and took the receiver.

"Okay, Charlie, I'll see them outside." Jed stepped out onto the portico and felt the warm July breeze sweep over him. The bay door from the private office opened and Ron Butterfield and Mike Casper stepped out. "He did it to me again, Ron! Twice in one day! At least this time we know where he is."

Both agents glanced at each other and watched as Jed started pacing up and down.

"I need a cigarette…" he stopped pacing and looked at the two men in front of him. "I don't suppose either of you…? Nah…" he waved his hand and started moving again.

"I'm going to get that boy home today if I have to send Air Force One out there to do it," he grumbled.

"Sir, I really think you need to see this," Ron stated, holding out a folder for Jed's inspection.

"What is it?" he asked, taking the folder and starting to flip through it, absently.

"The attachment that Danny Concannon sent to Josh," Mike said bleakly.

Something in the way the two men were acting brought Jed up short. Men like this never let emotion show, but whatever was in this file had Ron grinding his teeth and Mike Casper looking a little green around the gills.

Jed pulled the colour printout from the envelope and started to read. As he progressed, he felt the blood drain from his face and Josh's words came back to haunt him.

_Donna__'s here and she __**is **__in trouble._

And he hadn't believed him.

Jed swallowed hard to fight the wave of nausea that rose unbidden from his already churning stomach.

"This is what Danny sent Josh?"

Both men nodded in unison.

Every preconceived notion of what Josh had done over the past twenty four hours crashed down around Jed Bartlet's ears like a house of cards. He felt his hands start to tremble and... _Oh God, what had he done?_ In trying to do what he thought was right for Josh he had quite probably done the worst thing instead.

Bartlet looked at the two agents, who stood their ground unflinchingly.

"Could this be a fake?"

"Not likely sir, not if Danny Concannon's involved," Mike answered. "Sir?" he continued hesitantly, "is Josh OK?"

Jed looked at the young FBI agent. He'd met him for the first time last December, the same day that Leo had taken the stand in front the Oversight Committee. Leo had mentioned afterwards that Josh and Mike had some sort of history together.

"You knew him before here didn't you?"

"Yes, sir. Josh, Danny, Congressman Wick and I were at Harvard together."

If the circumstances had been different, Jed would have made a comment about how amazing it was that Harvard was still standing after those four had been let loose on it. But now was certainly not the right time or place.

Jed nodded and walked back towards the Oval Office followed by the two agents.

Leo was hanging up the phone as he stepped into the room.

"Well? Is he OK?"

"We don't know, sir."

Jed was confused.

"What do you mean, we don't know?"

"They don't have him."

"They don't what?"

"Have him, sir."

"Why the hell not? I just spoke to him five minutes ago."

"Yeah, well apparently five minutes is all Josh needs." Was that a touch of pride Jed heard in Leo's voice?

"I think you'd better tell me everything; I have the feeling this is going to get worse."

"I think you're right." Leo replied. "I spoke to the attaché who had been assigned to Josh when he arrived. He'd told him he was the communications attaché, when in point of fact he was the head of the ambassador's secret service detail."

"Who the hell authorised that, Leo?" Jed ran a hand over his hair. "It's Josh we're talking about here, not some two bit terrorist!"

"You did, sir."

"I did what?"

"Sir, by ordering Josh remanded you indicated that his judgement had been compromised. The embassy staff had to take the appropriate precautions for the safety of the Ambassador."

"Oh."

"Josh apparently ripped the phone cord out of the wall and when they came in to examine it he made a run for it."

"And the attaché couldn't stop him?"

"Apparently he locked them in the room he'd been in." There was the ghost of a grin on Leo's face.

"How on earth did he manage that?" Jed felt the corners of his mouth beginning to twitch.

"Can you believe they'd left the key in the lock on the outside of the door?"

"Oh, you _are_ kidding right?"

"Unfortunately not."

"Well it's nice to know that our intelligence dollars are well spent. Go on."

"Josh managed to get out into the compound when Agent O'Neill and the Corporal with him, broke the door down. Josh was about halfway across the forecourt when they came out onto the steps and it was at that point that Corporal James drew his side arm and fired three warning shots off."

The reaction from those gathered to Leo's statement was immediate and vociferous, ranging from a simply exclaimed "No!" through to some very impolite opinions about the mating habits of the young corporal's parents.

Jed held up his hand for silence.

"Go on, Leo."

"Well apparently Josh either didn't hear the shots or he just ignored them, but he kept going. The guards tried to shut the gate on him but he managed to slip through onto the street outside. Our guys had to stop - they couldn't chase him into Cairo itself; we have no jurisdiction there. O'Neill suggested that we release Josh's identity to the Egyptian police with an order for his arrest and let them help us find him." Leo shrugged. "One good piece of news, if you want to see it that way, was that the last that O'Neill saw of Josh was that he was being helped into a taxi by a stocky red-headed man."

"Danny?" CJ asked.

"I would assume so."

"Thank God for small mercies." Toby muttered under his breath.

"Sir – you aren't seriously considering releasing Josh's name to the Egyptian authorities?" CJ questioned. "It'd be the top story for every news outlet by nightfall." Jed didn't respond - he just stood there gazing into the distance. "Sir, even if it's unconfirmed – if Danny _has_ found Josh… let's see if he can help him first. Maybe Danny can talk Josh into coming back to the embassy?" She was aware she sounded desperate, but she didn't care – looking at Sam and Toby, she was hoping to see some signs of agreement on their faces.

"I'm sorry, Mr President. But I think our worst fears have just been confirmed. I don't want to do it any more than you do, but I think we need to think about Josh's safety." Leo's face was stern, but his eyes showed the pain behind the mask.

Bartlet saw in that moment just how much Josh meant to Leo and the others. It was time to let them know what was really going on.

"What the hell were they doing firing off shots in the first place! If Josh wasn't already having an episode, it's a damn good way to start one!" Sam asked no one in particular.

"Josh isn't having an episode," he stated simply.

Four blank faces stared back at him.

"At least, not yet. That little fire-fight at the embassy might be the straw that breaks the camel's back, though." Jed threw the printout and the envelope down on the desk in front of his senior staff. "This is the reason that Josh took off. This is what Danny sent him."

Hesitantly, Leo picked up the printout and stared at it in abject horror. Passing it over to Toby he sank down into the carver chair, his hand hovering over his partially opened mouth.

Staring at Leo's stunned expression, Jed was about to speak when a small gagging noise made him look at the others. Sam had turned away and CJ, a fire burning in eyes that were also brimming with tears glared at the offending document. Toby, his chin raised to a contemptuous level looked down his nose at it, as if by that act he could demean it. Make it less. Make it impotent.

"He told us the truth. And we didn't listen," Bartlet said quietly, head bowed.

"What are we going to do?" Sam asked, his eyes, too, bright with anger.

"For now, all we can do is try to find them."

The emotional part of Jed's brain seemed to have shut down suddenly. He felt numb, as though he was watching these events from somewhere outside his own body. Was it because he didn't want to feel, because if he allowed himself that luxury he wouldn't be able to see this thing objectively? He needed the cover of his presidency right now. He needed the weight of the office to strengthen him, because somewhere on the other side of the world two of his 'children' were in trouble. One through no fault of her own; and the other… the result of Jed's own foolish pride.

Once again the door to the private office opened and Charlie stepped in.

"Sir. The Prime Minister of Egypt is on line one for you."

Jed blinked.

"I'm sorry?"

"The Egyptian Prime Minister is on the line for you, sir. They've had reports of gunfire at our Embassy."

Jed and Leo exchanged looks.

"What do you want to tell them?" Leo enquired.

"No more than I have to," Jed replied tersely. "CJ's right - this gets out and it's over for Josh, and I don't even want to speculate what it would do for Donna's situation. We can't assume that they don't know who she is." Jed picked up the receiver and punched the button for line one.

"Mr. Prime Minister?"

The seven other people in the room held their breath collectively as Jed Bartlet tried to calm the irate Prime Minister.

"No, sir we were not firing at your citizens…. Yes, there was a 'fracas' as you describe it…. We are not… no that's not…. It was a misunder… Mr. Prime Minister if you'll just shut up for long enough I'll try to explain!" Jed's eyes suddenly darkened. "Oded, you're well within your rights to do that, but please give me time…." Jed jerked the phone back from his ear and stared at it in astonishment. "What is it with people hanging up on me today?" Slowly he returned the receiver to its cradle. "Okay", he sighed, "we have a problem."

"When don't we?" Leo laughed bitterly. "I guess he knows something, huh?"

"The prime minister was calling to express his deep concern that members of my embassy staff discharged firearms in the centre of his nation's capital. Apparently, several witnesses saw a caucasian man running out of the front gates of the embassy shortly after the shots were fired. The prime minister also advised me that the CCTV footage from outside the embassy buildings is currently being assessed; and will possibly be aired on local television in the hope that someone will be able to identify the person fleeing from the scene so that, in his words, 'they might be brought in for the sake of the security of his citizens'."

Leo nodded and turned to his staff.

"CJ, get in contact with Barry Turnbull at the Post. Use whatever means necessary to get in contact with Danny – he might be our only link to Josh. And I need you to find out everything you can about the story Danny's been working on. We need to know exactly what he knows, and we need to know it quickly – by this afternoon. Sam, try Josh's number every half hour. I doubt he'll answer but keep trying anyway – If by some miracle you do get hold of him, tell him we know the truth and we need to talk. Toby – you and CJ need to start working on putting together some feasible stories to feed the press to explain why Josh isn't around. If that CCTV footage gets aired, it might be good enough quality for someone to identify Josh, Danny or both of them. We need to have a contingency plan ready to go."

Leo suddenly remembered the two other men standing silently in the room. "Mike. I need you to pull as many strings as you can to help CJ with finding out anything to do with white slavery rings in the Middle East, and Ron – tact State and Treasury. I want that idiot corporal and Russell O'Neill reassigned today." Leo paused, glancing around at the sea of concerned faces in front of him once more. 'Let's get this done.' He turned back to the President. "Mr President, if that's all?"

Bartlet took a deep breath, and nodded, once.

"Thank you, Mr President."

Jed stopped Leo before he walked back into his office.

"Leo?"

"Yes, sir?"

"He'll be okay? He could really be in it this time."

Leo smiled.

"It's Josh we're talking about, sir. He's always in it. It's just the depth that varies."

Jed snorted.

"Do this for me, Leo… bring them home."

"Yes, sir."

When all of them had gone, and Jed Bartlet the man stood alone on the seal of the President of the United States of America, he suddenly, and for the first time since he took office, felt… small. Walking back to his desk, he opened the centre drawer and took out his mother's well loved and well used rosary. Stepping back over to the seal, Jed knelt slowly and started to pray.

"_Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen."_

Our father, who art in heaven….


	15. Chapter 15

**Saturday July 6, 2002. Cairo – 8.45pm local time**

The taxi pulled up outside the Marriott and let out its two passengers, the stockier of the two men all but supporting the slimmer frame of the other. A couple of passing tourists 'tsked' in disgust as the man they believed to be drunk leaned against the cab as his friend paid the fare.

"C'mon. Let's get you inside." Lifting the other man's arm over his shoulder, the red-head put away his wallet and half-heaved his friend away from the cab, supporting him precariously. After a moment or two, the drunk, who was gently swaying on his feet seemed to stabilise enough to regain something of his balance, but lacked any sense of general direction, and stood squinting into the distance looking as though he had no idea where he was supposed to be going.

"This way," said his friend, leading him towards the front door of the hotel.

It was sheer exhaustion and nerves shot to hell that caused Josh's unsteadiness.

His pounding heart had slowly started to return to normal during the taxi ride back, but by the time they'd reached the hotel he suddenly found that the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body had turned into a super sized overload of by-products that turned his muscles to jelly. It was an extreme version of how Josh often felt after he went on a long run with CJ. Normally a quick collapse and a drink of water and he could shake most of the weariness from his limbs. This felt as though he'd gone into neural overload and his muscles didn't want to work.

But he was okay. All he needed now was to lie down for a few minutes and he'd be fine.

So…what the hell had that been about anyway? Josh couldn't help feeling slightly amused. When news of this got back stateside, he could guess what the general reaction was going to be. Mr O'Neill would be lucky if he wasn't posted to the Outer Hebrides for that little mistake. As for the corporal – whom Josh had to assume had fired the rounds… could you get demoted from corporal?

Danny had said little during the journey back, instead letting Josh handle things in his own way. Josh couldn't express his gratitude for the fact that Danny had been there when he had, or for for any number of things that Danny had done in the past 24 hours - the most obvious of which was sending the file that started this insane journey in the first place. When this was all over and Donna was safe Josh was going to make sure that Danny and only Danny would get the exclusive rights to the story, even if his part of it did come from a padded cell.

Now, with Danny's support, he stumbled into the main foyer of the Marriott.

"Stay here, I'll grab the key," Danny said allowing Josh to sink into a chair.

Leaning his thumping head forward into his hands Josh ran over the events at the embassy again and again in his mind.

The President, Leo, Sam… all of them… they honestly thought that he was having an episode?

It was a logical enough assumption; his behaviour over the past day or so had been pretty erratic. What had surprised Josh the most about his conversation with President Bartlet had been his admission that he'd been harsh on Josh, which was surprising because Josh hadn't seen it that way. Sure, the President had been cool towards him for the last couple of months, but he put that down to his screw up with Amy over the Welfare Reform bill. It hadn't been one of his more shining moments in history and it had been completely his own fault. He'd known how she would react to the news about the marriage incentives, and shouldn't have said anything to her, but hadn't realised the extent to which she would go to stop him pre-empting her response.

Apparently it was hard for Amy to differentiate between 'work time' and 'home time'… oh, who was he kidding? Josh snorted. 'Home time'? The last time he'd truly had any 'home time' himself was after the shooting two years ago… and then it had been forced upon him by Donna

There she is again, Josh thought. Everything led back to Donna. She was why he was here. Donna had all but given her life over to him from the day she started working for him. Now she was in trouble and his one thought was to get her back – to somehow repay her for everything she'd done for him over the years. He knew there were people who thought he took her for granted, keeping her to ungodly hours on a weekly basis. That wasn't true. Any time that she wanted to go, day or night, Josh wouldn't have stopped her even if he'd wanted to. Well… if he was honest with himself, there was one exception. He ALWAYS tried to stop her from going out with those first class gomers she always seemed to find. But besides that, Josh couldn't deny Donna a single thing. And it was Donna's choice to stay back and work.

When Donna had come to see him the day of her testimony before the House Oversight Committee and revealed that she had in fact kept a diary, Josh had been furious. But not for the reason that Donna had believed. He was furious that he hadn't taken the time to prepare her himself. That he had been so jealous of the fact she had gone out with Calley in the first place that his own fragile ego had prevented him from helping her when she most needed it. He should have been the one to grill her over a lunch of burger and fries (for him) and salad (for her - although she would almost certainly have stolen at least half of his fries anyway). He should have been the one to make sure that she was prepared in every way possible for any curveball the committee might have thrown at her. His first thought when she'd come to him had not been about how her lie would affect the administration, or even the President for that matter. The first and final thought in Josh Lyman's head at that moment was of Donna and how to keep her from the mess of trouble she could find herself in.

It amazed Josh sometimes, how Donna could be so poised, so strong in so many aspects of her life, and yet so naïve and innocent in others.

Donna had become part of Josh's life in the most gloriously insidious way, having been able to see straight through the facade he normally presented to the world to who he really was. She'd seen what he needed most; she'd seen his imperfections and accepted them, making herself totally indispensable until one day she had simply... become part of him. She was his moral compass, his voice of reason, the one person whose opinion mattered most above all others. She was the other half of his whole and without her, he was lost. She was so much a part of him that Josh wouldn't allow himself to think about what it would have been like for him if she hadn't been in his life after Rosslyn. And in all honesty, would he even be there if she hadn't been? Would anyone else have picked up on what had been happening to him that dreadful December. Donna was so in tune with who he was that the thought of losing her was tantamount to the thought of losing a leg. He wasn't complete without her.

Josh was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of Danny's voice.

"Nah, the fool missed his connecting flight. Found him in the airport bar. Two drinks in his 'delicate system' and he's gone."

There was a chuckle followed by the sound of footsteps coming over towards him.

"We will make sure that the porters turn down the second bed for you, Mr Concannon."

"Thanks Ashwan. With any luck I'll get him on a flight tomorrow."

The footsteps stopped, and Josh was looking down at Danny's shoes.

"Come on. Let's get you upstairs and into a niiiice cool shower."

Josh appreciated that Danny was trying to give him a cover, but did he have to be enjoying it so much?

But he stood up anyway and suddenly the room started spinning as he pitched forward into Danny's shoulder.

"Hey; not so heavy on the acting," Danny half whispered to him.

"Who's acting?" Josh groaned. His head was really starting to pound now. 'My kingdom for an Advil!' he thought. "And by the way… enough with the 'delicate system' jokes already. I get plenty of that from Donna."

"Where do you think she got it from, 'Mr-two-'Buds'-and-I-am-trying-to-climb-the-library-flagpole'?" Danny snickered as he steered the all but shuffling Josh into the elevators and pressed the button for the second floor.

"I only did that because Gloria Valorfini volunteered to substitute her underwear for the flag if anyone could get it up there!"

"Yeah, suuure," Danny drawled as the doors to the second floor opened at the same time as his cellphone started ringing. Josh looked at him in alarm as he flipped the phone open.

"I'm not here," Josh mouthed fearing that the White House was trying to track him down.

Danny placed his hand over the mouthpiece.

"It's Ahmed." Josh sighed in relief as Danny opened the door to the room and flicked on the switch. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down. Okay…"

Josh flopped down onto the bed he had used earlier in the day and watched as Danny listened to Ahmed. Slowly Danny's eyes began to widen.

"Hang on Ahmed. He's here…"

Josh got immediately to his feet.

"What? Is it news on Donna? Is she okay?" A thousand scenarios ran through Josh's head, none of them good.

Danny waved Josh off impatiently and placed his free hand over his uncovered ear for a second. When Josh got the message and shut up, Danny turned towards him and gestured towards the bed. Josh turned around and saw the TV remote laying where he'd left if before going to the embassy.

"Turn on CNN," Danny instructed.

Hitting the 'on' button, both men moved a little closer to the TV as the tube came to life.

In the top left hand corner of the screen a graphic consisting of the American and Egyptian flags crossed over with a gun laying across both of them sat, its subliminal message not missed by either of them. Along the bottom of the screen the ticker tape typing told of gold prices and sports results. Soon the major news of the day would repeat its cycle. But the ticker tape and the graphics weren't what held Danny and Josh's attention.

"….just repeating. Reports coming out of Cairo today suggest there have been shots fired within the grounds of the American Embassy. Details at this moment seem sketchy. No injuries to staff or passers-by have been reported. Sources within the White House said that the President spoke to the Prime Minister of Egypt shortly after the shots were fired. CNN has been given to understand that the Egyptian authorities plan to release CCTV footage from outside the American Embassy at the time of the incident which they believe will help to identify and apprehend the person or persons involved. We will broadcast that footage as soon as it comes to hand. This is not the first instance of shots being fired at an American Embassy this year…."

The newscaster continued on with another related story and Josh muted the sound on the tv, looking over at Danny in shock.

Danny returned his gaze, speaking to Ahmed who was obviously still on the other end of the line.

"Yeah, yeah we saw it…. I don't know…. I'll call you back in about fifteen, okay? Yeah, thanks for the heads up, Ahmed. Talk to you soon."

Danny carefully shut the phone and walked silently to the mini-bar. Opening the door he pulled out two beers, popped the tops and handed one to Josh who hadn't moved from where he'd had been standing.

Taking the beer automatically from Danny, Josh felt him 'clink' the glass bottles together.

"Well - here's to you, Josh," Danny said saluting him before he took a swig of the beer. "You weren't kidding were you?"

"Huh?"

"In the cab, you said your face wasn't going to be too popular around here. Man, if they have good enough footage of you on that CCTV… you're going to be very popular." Danny gave him a mocking smile.

Josh took a deep drink of his own beer before replying.

"Danny. If their CCTV's that good, you ain't gonna be too popular either… Don't forget… You're an accomplice." Josh's own mocking grin was wider than Danny's and grew even wider when Danny caught on. "Butch and Sundance ride again?"

Josh walked over the couch, flopped down into it and ran a hand over his face.

Danny, despite the situation, couldn't help but laugh a bit.

"Fine, but if you think I'm gonna jump off anything for you… You've got another think coming!"


	16. Chapter 16

**Sunday July 7, 2002****. Cairo - 1.58am local time**

Cairo really was a city that never stopped, Josh thought to himself as he sat staring out over the balcony of Danny's hotel room. Sleep was nowhere on the horizon for him and instead he found himself working on an idea that had started to form in his mind as they made their retreat from the embassy. Now it was just a case of trying to work out how to fit all the elements together.

Beside him his cell phone buzzed again. The damned thing had been going off at least every 15 minutes for the last few hours. The first few times, he'd looked at the screen to see the words 'Sam', CJ', or even 'Toby', but after that, he'd stopped looking, not wanting to speak to them, or face the messages they were almost certainly leaving. He was on his own, relatively speaking, for this one. Besides, hadn't anyone in the office thought to change ONE of the many clocks around there to local time in Cairo? Maybe they had. Maybe they were trying to trip him up and get him to answer without thinking… It wasn't going to work…

He was going to have to be the one to find Donna without the help or support of his friends back home. And in some small way that was a comfort to Josh. At least if things were to go wrong - and Josh was allowing his fears no quarter on that issue – he would face the consequences… Well, he and Danny, Josh supposed. Taking a deep breath, Josh allowed himself to consider the worst case scenario – what the implications would be for himself, as well as for Donna, if things went badly. In a moment of total self-honesty, Josh admitted to himself that losing Donna could well break him. She was so much a part of him now that if he lost her, he could quite conceivably lose himself too. Knowing this, admitting this to himself Josh pulled up short of another admission – he couldn't go there, not now – and instead concentrated on his determination to get Donna out. He would MAKE it work… because he had to.

Josh and Danny had kept a close eye on CNN and the local TV station as the night progressed to see if the CCTV footage from outside the embassy had hit the screens. By the time Danny turned in for the night, it still hadn't shown up, so Josh had come outside, turned one of the patio chairs towards the balcony railing and, propping his feet up on the top rail, sat looking out over Cairo.

The street lights and the lights illuminating the still-open businesses had turned the night sky to a sooty orange. The dull roar of the traffic in the continuously busy street was muffled by the acres of superbly lit gardens around the hotel and Casino. Music somewhere in the distance and laughter coming from the rooms around him filtered up to Josh, and from where he was sitting he could turn his head and look up the tower to the higher priced suites. Somewhere up on floor fifteen or sixteen, he guessed, there must have been a party going on. The lights of the room were blazing and Josh could make out the vague silhouettes of guests on the balcony – and somewhere up there, he thought grimly, was the man who was the link to Donna's whereabouts.

Earlier, Danny had finally convinced Josh that half of his balance problem probably stemmed from the fact that he hadn't eaten in nearly twenty four hours. So he had called room service and had two enormous meals brought up full of chicken and rice and steamed vegetables, along with a steaming hot pot of coffee… Egyptian coffee

Danny had teased that Josh needed to "carb up"; the downside being that at about 10.30 the carbs and the caffeine had kicked in and Josh was now _very_ wide awake – unlike Danny, who was snoring like a wounded warthog behind him. Josh couldn't help a grin from spreading across his face – it had been years since he'd been subjected to the '10.30 from Chicago ' as Danny had been dubbed in college.

Running his hand over his face, Josh felt the stubble of 36 hours under his fingers. That was good; he had until the 10th to get as much of a growth on as possible. Josh's plan was fairly simple - but there was one problem he needed to iron out. It would require a certain amount of finance that he didn't readily have to hand. Salvation, however lay at the end of his phone.

Picking it up, Josh hit speed dial 2, reckoning that it must be about 5pm back home. There was a slight pause as the international satellite picked up his signal, then the distinctive buzz of a line being called. It had only rung a handful of times before it was answered, and as Josh opened his mouth to speak he found himself cut off by an angry voice.

"Joshua Lyman! It was about time you called me - what on earth is going on?!" Josh yanked the phone away from his ear… what was the thing with people yelling at him lately? Oh yeah, that's right, he'd bolted from the country without telling anyone.

"Hi, Mom," Josh sighed.

"Don't you 'Hi Mom' me, young man!"

Josh rubbed the left side of his face and grimaced. His mother was in excellent form.

"Apparently your caller ID is working fine," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Are you trying to get cute with me?"

Okay, so obviously she wasn't in the mode for a joke.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry. SORRY! Damn straight you should be sorry! What do you think you were playing at taking off to Egypt like that? Without so much as a 'by-your-leave'? "

Okay, so that cleared one thing up; someone had told her where he was.

"Who told you?"

Her voice softened slightly.

"It was more like who _didn't_ tell me. Josh, honey, I've had calls from CJ, Sam, Charlie Young, Sam, one from Toby – did I mention Sam? – a couple from Leo, and guess what? – Sam – oh, and one other person…. Now who was that..?" Josh held his breath - he knew where this was going. "It was someone important, I know that much…" Josh did allow himself a small twitch at the corners of his mouth. He knew that his tendency to overact came totally and solely from his mother's side of the family. She was on a roll – best to let her play it out. "No, no don't prompt me, I know I'll get it eventually… Oh – oh that's right POTUS! I got a call from the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES! WHO WAS TRYING TO FIND OUT IF I HAD HEARD FROM MY IDIOT SON WHO SEEMED TO HAVE DECIDED TO GO VISITING THE PYRAMIDS!"

_And we're back to the shouting again_

"Mom… can I get a word in?"

The silence at the other end of the line was exquisitely expressive.

"I'm not sure what they told you exactly, but whatever it was, I'm fine and no, I'm not having a 'bad day'."

Confused, Josh heard his Mom snort in response. He'd thought she would be angry, thinking he might be having a relapse. But if she really thought he was in danger, then surely she wouldn't be yelling at him?

"We're _way_ past thinking you're having a nutty, Joshua."

"We are?"

"Don't you answer your phone or check your voicemail?"

"I'm really not in the mood, Mom."

"Too bad, because if you had, you might have learned from goodness knows how many of them that Michael Casper was finally able to get that attachment off your hard drive."

Josh frowned. This was more information than his Mom should have had access to.

"Mom - is someone there with you?" Fear started to creep up Josh's spine

"Oh, good Lord Joshua! You're getting as paranoid as your father was at times! Leo told me the whole story so that if you _did_ contact me, I could tell you what was going on – he thought you might at least listen to me. Lord knows why he thought that, you haven't listened to me since you were about four."

"Mom I've always listened to you… I just didn't always do what you said," he said, sheepishly.

"From your mouth to God's ear!" Josh could hear the motherly frustration in her voice. "Leo wouldn't tell me what was in the attachment - just the fact that Donna was in trouble and you had gone to Egypt to help her. Is that right?"

"Yeah… " Josh sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Actually that's why I called. I need you to do me a favour."

"To help Donna? Anything."

That was exactly the answer Josh had been hoping for.

"I need you to access the Trust for me and transfer everything Dad left me across to my checking account."

Silence.

"Mom?"

Another pause and then finally -

"All of it?"

"All of it."

"That's an awful lot of money Josh."

Josh nodded to himself in agreement, knowing that the money that would be available from liquidating the Trust was only going to be half as much as he'd like - he wanted to have double what he was likely to need on hand – just in case.

"Donna's in an awful lot of trouble Mom."

"Okay"

"Okay?"

"Okay"

"Mom - you're amazing. Thank you." Josh squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You just have to promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"When you two get home, you both come down and see me for at least a week."

Josh laughed.

"I think I might be able to arrange that."

Josh jumped suddenly as behind him, Danny let out a mighty snore.

"What was that?" Mrs Lyman gasped. "You have hippos that close to your room?"

Josh's face broke into a wide smile.

"Yeah Mom, hippos. One called Danny."

"Oh… I see… say hi for me."

"Yeah… and thanks again, Mom."

"Just keep safe - and keep your promise."

Josh spoke softly. "I will."

"Good night, Josh. Now go to bed. You've got bags under your eyes and you aren't eating right."

"Yes, Mom." She knew him _far_ too well, even half a world away.

"I love you."

"Love you, too."

Josh slowly closed his phone, looking at it for a few seconds before going back inside, closing the balcony door and drawing the curtains. Climbing into the turned down bed next to Danny's, Josh lay back with his hands interlaced behind his head, his mind slowly winding down. Tomorrow – no today – Josh would start working out exactly how he was going to buy Donnatella Moss.


	17. Chapter 17

**Sunday July 7, 2002 Cairo ****– 7.45am local time**

Danny groaned as he rolled over in the bed. Vaguely he was aware of the smell of something delicious coming from somewhere nearby. Peeking out from under the covers, he squinted at the sunlight streaming into the room. Propping himself up he noticed that Josh's bed was conspicuously empty, but at least it had signs that it had been slept in; although judging from the state of the covers, it had been a rather disturbed sleep.

Blinking a few times to clear his vision, Danny saw that on the table between the beds and the balcony there were several plates covered with warmers… that was where the smell was coming from. Someone – Josh obviously – had ordered breakfast.

Danny rarely ate breakfast, simply because he was too damned lazy to get it himself and couldn't be bothered buying it on the way to work. Usually he just resorted to two or three cups of strong coffee and the realisation that he was probably going to drop dead of a massive coronary some time before his 50th birthday.

Attempting to swing his legs out from under the covers proved to be more problematic that Danny had counted on. Somehow during the night, he'd managed to rather successfully tangle the sheets around his feet, so his normally sloth like exit from the bed actually resulted in a frantic flailing of limbs to kick himself free. Grumpy and hungry Danny finally extricated himself from the masochistic bedding and shuffled his way over to the table.

Hearing the water running in the bathroom, Danny realised where Josh was and proceeded to sit down at the table, lifting up one of the covers to reveal a fully cooked breakfast. Eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns, flapjacks – with maple syrup – tomatoes, mushrooms, toast. Under the other plate was an assortment of fresh fruits and yogurts and finally, and sitting to one side, a pot of hot middle eastern, blow your brains out – coffee.

Not standing on ceremony and waiting for Josh, Danny tucked in. He was just lifting a nice pile of scrambled eggs and toast to his mouth, when the bathroom door opened and a freshly laundered Josh stepped out, roughly towel-drying his hair.

Walking into the room, he poured himself some coffee and picked up a piece of toast, wandering over to the window before finally coming back to sit at the table.

As they ate in silence, Danny caught Josh glancing his way a few times, and felt almost as though he was sizing him up. He put up with it for about three minutes before it started to bug the hell out of him.

"Alright!" Danny said finally in frustration as he slammed down his fork. "What the hell is going on?"

Josh leaned back and eyed his friend.

Danny was very worried now. He'd seen that look on Josh Lyman's face before. It was sort of a benevolent smile, the kind that someone who didn't know him would assume was designed to put them at their ease. But Danny knew better - Josh only really used that look just before some Republican found themselves picking up their entrails off the floor.

"Me?" Josh asked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm sitting here opposite the White House equivalent of a Great White, and I feel like that girl on the Jaws poster. What are you plotting?"

Josh took a sip of his coffee and shook his head.

"Not plotting… planning…" Danny snorted. _Like there was a difference in the world of Josh Lyman_. "Danny, I'm going to need your help again."

Sighing, Danny agreed – he would question his choices later.

"Sure; what do you need?"

"I need you and Ahmed to get me in touch with the best hackers and forgers in Cairo."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No."

Danny studied Josh's face. He was right – he wasn't kidding. Josh's expression was set like chiselled marble and his eyes burned with purpose. Whatever he was up to, he was serious about it.

"I need things," Josh continued, beginning to tick them off on his fingers. "I need a bank account set up; I need travel documents; I need doctors' papers; I need a criminal record; I need credit cards; I need…."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Danny interrupted. "A criminal record? For what? Just what exactly are you planning on doing and do you realise that by doing it you could end up with a _real _criminal record?"

Josh just gave him that flat stare again.

There was a knock at the door and Danny got up to look through the peep hole. Seeing Ahmed outside, he opened the door to let him in.

"Great timing," Danny drawled sarcastically.

"Isn't it always?"

Ahmed came into the room and dumped his backpack down on Danny's bed and took off his sunglasses.

"So…. What happened last night?"

Danny looked at Josh, who was drinking his coffee, the blank expression still fixed on his face.

"Tell you later. Right now I'm more concerned about keeping this guy away from sharp objects."

Ahmed raised his eyebrows.

"Don't worry about him," Josh said, rising from his chair. "He's being melodramatic because I said I needed to talk to some discreet underworld type characters… for documentation purposes."

"Oh… Okay, sure." Ahmed blinked several times at the statement "And you need this why, exactly?"

Before Josh could respond, Danny jumped in again.

"We hadn't actually got to that part. I kinda stopped him when he was asking for someone to set him up with a criminal record."

"Okay, now you've lost me."

Josh sighed.

"Look, it's really simple. You said that this Darius character only deals with credentialed buyers, right?" "Okay then, what I need is enough cred for him to be willing to deal with me."

"Why would you want to deal with him?" Danny frowned.

"How the hell did you win that Pulitzer, Danny? Use that famous deductive mind for a moment…" Josh left the sentence hanging.

Danny shot him a withering glare. But Josh did have a point.

"Okay. You want street cred so you can deal with Darius. Darius only deals with buyers and we believe that he, or one of his associates, is holding the leash on Donna… therefore logically, if you want to get in to see her you are going to need NOT to be Josh Lyman. Am I right?"

"Close, but take it one step further."

"Further?"

"Further."

"'Kay. You get the credentials, you go in… you see that Donna is okay… you can't use brute force to get her out and you aren't going to want to risk bringing in anyone from the embassy in case it goes bad." The penny suddenly dropped. "You're going to bid on her?"

"Yes."

There was a chilling finality to Josh's one word answer that brooked no argument.

Danny could see where this was going now… and he didn't like it. Josh was planning on changing his identity so that he could slip in as a buyer and make the purchase 'legitimately', so to speak, so there would be no contest, no fuss and he could get her out without anyone raising an eyebrow. Not that it didn't make sense, and not that he could see any real alternative - but it was still incredibly risky.

"Josh, these guys play for high stakes. You're going to need some serious money to play in their league."

"I've got that covered." Josh replied simply. "Believe me Danny, when I say money is _not_ the issue. The issue is not getting recognized as soon as I get involved."

"What do you need us to do?" Ahmed asked.

Josh picked up a pad which had been lying on the nightstand and threw it down on the able in front of Danny. "I need this information worked into every place your guys can think to put it. I've got 24 hours to get this guy up and running - I'll check into this hotel later today under a new name.

"Josh, the hotel staff have already seen you – how are you…? Danny began, stopping as he realized what Josh would have to do to remedy that situation. Danny allowed a huge grin to spread over his face. "What is this, an episode of 'Mission Impossible'? Don't tell me you're gonna come back with a false nose and a fake beard!"

Josh shook his head and rubbed his hand over his face.

"Yeah, Danny, that's exactly what I'm gonna do." Josh sighed, his voice dripping in sarcasm. "Look, I have to not look like me, okay? And that's all I wanna say on the matter."

"It might be the last _you_ have to say on it, but it's too good an opportunity to pass up… to, you know, mock you!" Danny was still grinning from ear to ear.

"Keep this up, and I'll let it slip that you once signed up for a short course in manicures and pedicures when we were in college!"

Danny's face fell instantly.

"You know that was just so I could get the story on girls passing out stolen test sheets in the class."

"Yeah, sure _I_ know that, but…" grinning himself now, Josh turned to Ahmed.

"I need the name of a good tailor. Can you find one for me?"

"Sure Josh, give me half an hour."

Ahmed was as good as his word. By 8.40 am, he had collected a list of names and places for Josh, all of them within walking distance of the Marriott.

Josh nodded in thanks and turned to Danny

"I'll see you back here around one," Josh said, grabbing his bag and sunglasses and leaving without further chance for discussion.

Danny was still staring at the closed door, when a shout from Ahmed got his attention.

"Danny? They've just released the footage from outside the embassy!"

Danny moved to stand in front of the TV, folding his arms as he watched the grainy CCTV footage being shown on the local channel. He couldn't understand the Arabic announcer, but he didn't need to – the pictures said it all. The camera must have been one of the ones up in a monitoring stations somewhere in the city, because the camera angle changed abruptly as people in the street started to scatter, and settled on the front gates of the embassy, swivelling to try to capture what was going on as the chaos erupted. Within seconds Josh's figure came hurtling out of the gates and bounced off the passing car.

One – no, two – of Danny's worst fears were realized. The footage may have been grainy, the poor quality deteriorating further as the camera panned wider, but there, amid the chaos, was the image of the Deputy Chief of Staff of the White House being hauled off the pavement outside the American Embassy by a writer from the Washington Post. Anyone on staff at the Post or the Times or the White House or the White House Press Corps would recognize them and – Oh, God – all they had to do was back up the tape and they would find shots of Josh going into the Embassy in the first place.

He glanced quickly at his watch – 8am. 1am in the States. That would give him about four hours to get his story straightened out.

Why couldn't anything ever go simply for him?


	18. Chapter 18

**Sunday July 7, 2002 Cairo ****– 11am local time**

Josh closed the door behind him and headed towards the elevators, scanning the piece of paper containing the information Ahmed had provided. He had rather a long list of things he needed to do and he should have known that they'd take longer than expected, so it was a little after 11 when he made his final stop at the tailor Ahmed had recommended.

Wandering through Dalydress looking for a suitable image for his alter-ego, Josh found an inspired choice. It was a simple, black double-breasted suit that screamed "exclusive". Black wasn't something he usually went for, and overall, it was far away from 'Josh Lyman' as you could get. He was thinking about the sort of persona he wanted to project when a young sales assistant came over to him.

"May I be of assistance, sir?"

Josh swung around to face him. "Yes, actually, you can. I'm on vacation and I've just found out that can I swing an impromptu meeting with a prospective client while I'm here, but I haven't brought a single suit with me."

Well at least one part of that statement was true. He hadn't brought any suits with him.

"Certainly, sir. Did you have anything in mind?

"Do you have that suit in my size?" Josh asked indicating the one he'd spotted earlier.

"I'm sure we do, sir, please follow me." .

Josh wandered along behind the assistant when the folded newspaper under the arm of a fellow shopper caught his attention. He couldn't read the Arabic script obviously, but from what he couldsee of the accompanying picture, the CCTV footage must have been released. He would have to get his hands on an English paper as soon as he finished up here.

Josh was brought back from his thoughts by the sales assistant. "Here we are, sir. Is this the sort of thing you're looking for?"

The young man pulled out a suit bag and unzipped it. As he folded the bag aside Josh did see exactly what he wanted. As a rule, he never took a great deal of interest in his clothes – a suit was a suit was a suit; but he knew he needed to make an effort in this case.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Through here, sir." The assistant walked Josh towards the changing rooms.

As he passed through the archway, Josh noticed a copy of the same paper laying on a table near the entrance. This time he got a good look at the picture, noting with an internal sigh of relief that even though it had made the front page, it was below the fold. The picture wasn't huge and the article attached to it was more of a byline than anything substantial.

Josh took the suit bag from the assistant and started getting changed while thinking back to what he'd seen in the newspaper. The picture appeared to have been taken at or just after Josh had lurched out of the gates. It had been taken side on and was more of a profile shot than anything. If that was the best of the images they had, the chances of anyone recognizing him were going to be pretty slim.

Doing up the jacket Josh looked at himself in the mirror and was surprised to find that the suit fitted like a glove. He pulled the curtain back and stepped out.

Josh had never been much of a clothes horse – not like Leo, who favored hand-made suits - but this - this suit was different. It made him 'feel' different. Josh pulled himself up to his full height, holding his head higher, feeling his neck elongate. Just changing his clothes and his stance had gone a long way towards creating this new persona he had invented for himself – even his typical facial expression had changed. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and rise. He felt 'him' start to emerge -the man who was going to buy Donnatella Moss. He needed a couple of other things, but in essence he was there. Doctor Freidric Ryde.

Josh felt his predator's smile return as he called the sales assistant over.

"Now that I have that sorted out… I need a few other things."

An hour and a half and around two thousand dollars later; the wardrobe of Dr Ryde emerged from Dalydress over the arm of Joshua Lyman.

Deciding it was time to head back to the hotel, Josh was thinking about hailing a cab when he noticed that the International Times was being delivered into a dispensing machine. Flipping the appropriate coin to the young boy stacking the machine, Josh took a paper, noticing the boy giving him a second look as he moved to the curbside to hail a cab. He had barely lifted his hand when one screeched to a halt next to him; opening the door he threw his packages onto the back seat before climbing in himself.

"The Marriott."

The driver pulled out into the traffic and Josh finally had a chance to look at the paper.

Not surprisingly, the lead story was that shots had been fired in the grounds of the American Embassy. Above the fold was a half-page picture of an image which must have been taken from the CCTV footage and blown up. As far as he could tell, he had just bounced back from the passing car, because he was sprawled on the ground near the curb. The real problem however, was that it was pretty much a full-face shot.

Flipping the paper over, Josh began to read their version of the story and took in a sharp breath at what he saw. There was another picture. A far clearer picture – and it was of him. Someone at the Times had obviously managed to get access to digital imaging and had run the CCTV through the wash a couple of times. The image still wasn't fantastic, but to anyone that knew him – or, he realized, remembering the look the paper-boy had given him – to anyone who had had an opportunity to study the picture for a while – it was unmistakably him.

Josh leaned back in his seat and scrubbed his hand across his face. This was not good. The press back home would undoubtedly see this paper, and once the CCTV footage was released, there was a pretty good chance that someone would recognize him. The headline was even worse news.

GUNFIGHT AT THE US EMBASSY.

What gunfight? Gunfire yes, but a fight implied there had been more than one gun involved. And unless someone knew something he didn't, he was pretty sure that hadn't been the case.

The brief article read:

_At approximately 8.25pm Cairo local time last night, a series of gunshots was heard within the compound of the American Embassy in the Garden City district of Cairo. _

_An assailant was seen fleeing the scene shortly after the shots were heard. Three local embassy workers said that the man wanted by the authorities in relation to this incident had exited the building and used them a shield to move across the compound grounds._

_US Embassy officials and Washington sources refused to comment._

_The Egyptian authorities are seeking information from the general public to help apprehend the man for questioning._

_He is described as a caucasian male in his late 30's to early 40's, approximately 180cm tall, of slim build, brown hair with receding or high hairline and brown eyes._

_The authorities are also interested in speaking to another man seen assisting the first away from the scene. He is described as also being of Caucasian descent, approximately 180cm tall, stocky build with ginger hair and beard._

_Anyone with information pertaining to the incident is encouraged to contact the Cairo Police._

Josh finished reading the article and placed the paper gently on the seat beside him. The authorities though HE was responsible for the shots being fired? That was an unpleasant turn of events. Of course the Embassy and the State Department would refuse to comment; too much damage could be done by releasing the true version of events. And where did those girls get off saying he had used them as a human shield? He had been a good ten feet behind them. Yes, okay, he had been using them as a shield, but as a shield to get past the guards on the front gate. The guards who HADN'T been shooting at him. This was getting out of hand. He needed to consider his options.

He could resolve the situation easily. All he would have to do would be to walk into a police station and tell his side of the story.

And that's where the plan would fall apart for a number of reasons. One – they would probably arrest him. Two – even if they did believe him, there was no guarantee that someone, somewhere wouldn't leak that information to the media, or worse, to Darius. Three – what reason could he give them for the fact that the shots had been fired in the first place..? "I'm sorry - my colleagues thought I was having a Post Traumatic Stress 'episode' and they were trying to bundle me off to the local nut house?" Four – If he turned himself in, it would make the front page of every major newspaper in the world. _"Senior White House official implicated in Embassy shooting"._

The risks were too great. He couldn't let anything come between him and his goal. And if that meant flying completely under the radar then that's what he was going to do.

Josh sighed and ran a hand through his hair. His morning had been productive but not as productive as he had hoped. He had only accomplished one of the things he needed to do to get "Dr Ryde" up and running. Josh hoped that Ahmed would have some more names for him this afternoon – time was of the essence.

Reaching into his bag Josh pulled out his cellphone and the slip of writing paper he had grabbed from the desk in Danny's room, then dialed the reservations number of the Marriott.

"Welcome to the Marriott," a young woman answered.

Josh took a deep breath – it was now or never.

"Yes. Good afternoon.' His voice had slipped into a crisp British accent, copied from a movie that had been one of his favorites in college. 'I'll be attending an art auction over this next weekend and I require a room. A suite, if you have one available - for two nights."

"Certainly, sir. When would you be checking in?"

"Monday morning. I'll be leaving on the 11th."

"Certainly, sir. Smoking or Non -Smoking?"

"Non."

"Very good, sir. How will you be paying?"

"Cash – on arrival."

"That's fine, in what name should I make the reservation?"

"Dr Freidric Ryde. R-Y-D-E."

"Thank you, sir. We have you booked into one of our executive suites. Dr F Ryde, arriving Monday the 8th of July. Anytime after 10am is fine, sir.

"Good. I'll see you then."

"Thank you, sir. Goodbye."

Disconnecting the call, Josh took a moment before making his next one. Punching in the familiar number, he waited for the call to be answered.

"Paging service of Claudia Jean Cregg. What message please?"

He left a six word message, listened as the girl confirmed it and then hung up.

Resting his head back, Josh closed his eyes. It was time for Joshua Lyman to sink slowly into the woodwork and for Dr Freidric Ryde to start to make his presence felt.


	19. Chapter 19

**Sunday July ****7, 2002. Cairo – Midday, local time.**

Danny spent the last part of his morning arguing with his editor. The _Post_ had picked up on the story about the events at the embassy and Brian McNish had called Danny in Cairo to tear him off a strip for not getting to the story first.

Ahmed, who had been staying in the "Hotel d'fleapit" (better known as the Concorde) that the Washington Post had selected for Danny, told him that there were a heap of messages waiting for him there that needed a response. So Danny had decided after Josh left that he'd head over there to pick them up before heading into the office.

Danny was working out of the United Press office in Cairo's central business district. It was a bit of a battle for life and limb to get into the damned place every day – the traffic here was just as busy and intense as anything he had witnessed in New York or London, or any number of other cosmopolitan places he'd visited, but Cairo was the only one where he had wanted to travel with his eyes closed for the entire trip. And Ahmed was a damned good driver!

United Press had their offices located in Bulaq, which was just across the river from the Marriot. They shared premises with the local television station, but whereas the station's offices were fairly modern, the building occupied by United Press must have been built when King Tut was in diapers! Rustic was one word to describe it… hell hole would probably have come closer, though.

Danny trudged up the stairs around noon, his hair already plastered to his forehead, slumping back against the wall as he heard his cellphone ring. Pulling it out, Danny half expected to see CJ or Josh's name on the screen. Instead, it was Brian's.

Danny answered reluctantly, guessing he was in for a pasting.

"Dammit, Danny, what the hell am I paying you for? growled the gruff Scottish voice at the end of the line.

"Good morning to you too, Brian. You're in early for a Saturday."

By Danny's calculations it should be what? 5am stateside…

"Yeah, well, when some idiot takes pot shots inside the American Embassy in Cairo, your plans for the day get well and truly screwed ! Of course I'd be in a much better mood if I could trust my staff to do their jobs!"

Brian clearly wasn't going to stop to take a breath, so Danny took the opportunity to climb the remaining two flights of stairs up to his 'office'

"Imagine my surprise last night, when I'm sittin' down for my usual Saturday night poker game with the boys when Art Burnstein asks what I make of this shooting. _'Oh_?' says I, '_what shooting was that then, Art_?' _'The one inside the grounds of our embassy in Egypt_.' '_First I've heard of it,_' I reply. '_Really? I thought you had some hot-shot reporter out there at the moment. Pat's gonna run it in the early edition_'. So suddenly I'm sittin' there in the presence of my fellows, my peers, my… well damn it… my less than equals, and I'm made to look like a bloody imbecile caught with his pants down because my 'hot shot reporter' – the one who is IN the region, mind – dropped the damn ball!"

Danny rolled his eyes and plopped down into his chair. When Brian got like this there was no stopping him. He decided it was best to just let him rant.

"You're a Pulitzer winning journalist, Danny! How the bloody hell did you miss this? It happened right under your nose!" He admonished sarcastically.

"Brian –"

"Everyone's been trying to contact you for days now and all we keep getting is that goofy voicemail of yours. Why the hell didn' t you pick up? And to top things off, you promised me a drop-everything story for last Thursday! Where the hell is THAT?"

Danny wouldn't have been surprised if dogs on the lower east side of Manhattan were covering their ears at this point. When Brian got…. peeved… his normal quiet highland brogue transformed into a full blown bagpipe ensemble.

"Brian - it's not my fault that the news desk didn't let you know that there'd been a shooting over here, so don't get pissy with me on that one. I didn't answer the calls because I didn't hear them; I turned my cell off last night, and I _am_ on that story I promised you, so you're just going to have to trust me on this one, okay?" Danny replied calmly, trying to placate the irate Scotsman.

Pulling his laptop from his bag and flicking it on, Danny leaned back and rubbed his eyes as his boss continued;

"Trust you? Danny, at this particular moment I'm not sure I should even be _employing_ you! First, you drop off the radar for three days, and when you finally get in touch, it's a hastily placed call to your researcher – and that was just to act as your secretary and get you in touch with your 'girlfriend' at the White House…"

"Hey!" Danny objected indignantly. "CJ Cregg has never been anything other than professional. And she has NEVER been my 'girlfriend'!"

"Who said anything about CJ Cregg?"

Damn!

"Anyway; girlfriend or not, you make the call and then disappear on me again … and by the way if you're not going to stay at the hotel we provide, at least have the common decency to let me know so I can cancel the booking? Who's running up the room service tab this time?"

Danny watched his e-mails downloading as he scratched his head. He'd forgotten that before Brian became an editor he'd been an investigative journalist himself.

He sighed. "Ahmed's using the room, but I'll be moving back there shortly. I just thought he might as well use it while I'm … not."

"Give me one good reason?"

"Brian, I'll give you eighteen. His mom, his dad, his four brothers, his five sisters, his maternal grandmother, his two aunts, an uncle and two cousins. Ahmed is the oldest of the kids and supplies fifty five percent of the family income. He hasn't had a break since he started working. I thought it might be a nice change."

"You're a soft-hearted prat, Concannon!" Brian growled. "But if he runs up the mini-bar tab over the allowance, you're bloody well paying for it!"

Danny tuned Brian out as he continued to rant and started scanning his e-mails.

Brian, Brian, Brian, Brian, Brian, Brian, CJ, Brian, Brian, Bri…. CJ?

Danny clicked the e-mail open and skimmed the contents. Blinking, he looked at the words again and re-read them.

"Brian?" he interrupted.

"What?"

"You know I just said you have to trust me..?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, trust me about trusting me…"

"Why?"

"Because if you do, I'll be bringing you the biggest story we've had in years."

"What?"

"Brian, I have an e-mail here from CJ Cregg. She's asked me to do her a favor and if I do it, Leo McGarry has promised me and the Post access to the white house like nothing you've ever seen before."

"So what's the favor? Is it to do with the shooting at the embassy?"

"Yes and no… Let's leave it at that shall we?"

"Are you forgetting that I'm your editor?"

"Are you forgetting that I'm sitting on this story?" Danny didn't have the time or the inclination to go twenty rounds with Brian on this. He couldn't tell Brian what was going on, not because he didn't trust him, but because Josh and now CJ had asked for his silence on the matter and because although he trusted Brian, he couldn't be sure that everyone Brian trusted wouldn't leak something. "Just trust me on this one for a couple of days more will ya? Have I ever let the team down?"

Brian's silence on the other end of the line was answer enough.

The tone of a second call coming in suddenly interrupted Danny's train of thought.

"Look, Brian, I've got another call coming in. Talk to you soon, I promise."

"Hang on…."

As Danny ended the call and waited for the next one to connect, he thought about just how many calls he'd had in the last three days that had been abruptly terminated. It seemed to him that he and Josh were going to be making an awful lot of apologies to an awful lot of people when this little affair was over.

The cellphone rang again, and Danny looked at the screen.

Speak of the devil. "Hey, Josh."


	20. Chapter 20

**Sunday July 7, 2002 Washington DC – 5.55am EST**

CJ's mustang screeched to a halt in the parking lot on the west side of the West Wing. All but vaulting out of the car, she ran up the short path to the North West lobby barely slowing as the doors swung open. Skidding to a standstill by the security desk, CJ swiped her access card before racing off again, heading straight for the Communications bullpen.

"TOBY? SAM?" CJ called. "You here?"

The door to Toby's office opened and a very harried looking Sam stepped out.

"CJ - thank God you're here!" The relief in his voice was palpable.

Before Sam could say any more, she cut him off, more than a little breathlessly.

"Spanky!"

Toby stepped out of Sam's office, a scowl on his face. "Did you tell her yet?"

"No, I –"

"Guys – I just got this…" Pulling out her pager, she read the line of text blinking there.

'_Sorry for the mess… love Josh_'.

CJ beamed. "He's okay! I mean, it's not much and it's not really all that useful, but at least it's from HIM!"

Sam and Toby just looked at each other while she babbled on.

"That's good, right? I mean, if he sent that, it must mean he's –" she broke off mid sentence and looked from Sam to Toby and back again. "What?" Taking in their expressions, she groaned. "I knew it. You two are mood killers, you know that? You just killed my – " CJ stopped, suddenly seeing the look of mild desperation on Sam face, and Toby's clenched jaw. "What?"

Toby handed her a morning paper.

CJ took one look at the front page and swore.

"DAMN IT!"

She slapped the paper against her leg, turned on her heel and stormed out the way she'd come in, heading for her office.

"Well… that went particularly well," Sam commented as he watched her retreating form.

Toby grunted and turned back to walk into his office. Sam shrugged and went into his.

They hadn't gotten two steps inside their respective doors when they both realized what CJ had said.

Both men poked their heads around their doors and stared at each other.

"Josh?" they said in unison before heading off after her.

"Are you sure they can't get a clear identifying shot of Josh?" Leo was asking into the phone when the three of them walked into his office about an hour later. "Well – who _can_ give me an answer?" He paused, then looked up and waved them in. "Okay, okay, keep me posted." Leo replaced the receiver and turned to face his staff. "We still don't know if anyone's going to clean up that image sufficiently well enough to be able to identify Josh. I mean, it looks a bit like him, but it's not immediately recognizable, so at the moment it's still rumor and conjecture on the part of the media, none of which leads to Josh at the moment and we need to keep it that way. I just wish we had some definitive word on him."

"Leo, we have something on that front." Toby said.

"You do?"

"Yes."

"What?"

CJ cleared her throat.

"I got a message from Josh just before 6am this morning."

"And you're just bringing this to me now?" Leo snapped.

"Margaret said you were on a conference call. What did you expect us to do?" CJ retorted.

"And?"

"And what?"

"And what did it say?"

"It said, _'Sorry for the Mess'_."

Leo slumped back in his chair. That was good news; it meant that Josh had finally gotten the message that they had made a mistake.

"At least he's willing to talk to us now," Sam said hopefully.

"What good will that do if this," Toby pointed to the early morning edition of the Times on Leo's desk, "is confirmed?"

Leo looked down at the grainy picture.

"And I think you may be wrong about them not being about to recognize Josh in that picture.

"Toby, we know it's Josh, because we _know_ it's Josh." Sam countered.

"I still think we have a problem."

"You THINK, we have a problem?" Leo raised his eyebrows at the Communications Director. "What's the gaggle been like, CJ?"

"So far – pretty light. It's Sunday after all. But after this, I expect the usual suspects will be sniffing around by lunchtime, if not before."

"We need to divert any speculation away from the slightest possibility that it might be Josh in those pictures, CJ. Pump up the new HUD figures." Leo tapped his finger to his lips. Also, get it out there that the Kefflers oversight committee is dragging it's feet on the higher education amendments to Pete Larkin's bill. Point out that this would give funding for…"

"Sure, Leo." CJ interrupted him.

"I wish that there was a small war we could start somewhere," Toby shrugged."

CJ grinned slightly.

"Give Josh some time, Toby. He's only been in Egypt for two days."

"CJ – that's not funny," Leo admonished.

"What's the latest on the investigation into the disappearance of Minister Shareef's plane?" Sam prompted. "Can we bring anything new to the table on that one?"

Leo really didn't want to open than can of worms. No matter what his personal feelings for Josh were, that was one of those things they couldn't use to help divert attention away from his situation. As things stood, the worst that could happen to Josh was that he could be exposed, humiliated and fired. The worst that could happen if they pushed the Qumari thing too far would be something that resulted in a body count. And that was not an acceptable trade off. But sitting on it made Leo uncomfortable, nonetheless.

"No, we've commented on that already. The team of investigators handed down their report last month. It was a joint investigation between the Qumari Government, the UK and us. Let State handle that one."

Leo could see the frustration on CJ's face. She was, after all, the one who was going to have to face down the hordes.

"Leo – we're going to need to give the guys something. This isn't some two bit back water paper. This morning it's the _Times_; by this evening every news outlet across the country is going to have the story and they'll have had a day to look at it closely. Okay, they're not all Danny, but Chris, Steve and Mark will probably recognize Josh, especially when they notice that he's not around the office. As sure as God made little green apples if they put two and two together and come up with the wheel of fortune, then the bonus round is over my friends!" CJ threw her hands up in the air.

"CJ you know you just…" Sam ventured.

"… made absolutely no sense just then? Yes. My point is they aren't dumb. They're going to be able to read between the lines on this one. We could have a huge problem here. We need to be able to tell them something about Josh's whereabouts… he's a pretty public figure.

"We have something else to consider to Leo," Toby said quietly. "We're starting to get questions from our own people, too. So far it's just been about Josh, because everyone knows that Donna's on vacation. But they're going to start putting two and two together soon; Donna was pretty excited about going to Egypt."

"Does anyone in the corps know that Donna's in Egypt?" Leo asked.

"Not as far as I'm aware."

"Well, that's one thing at least."

"We still need a diversion."

"What about a wedding? A divorce? A birth? Anything." The others looked at Sam as though he'd just grown another head.

"You can accommodate any or all three of those suggestions?" Leo glared. Now he was certain that his staff were losing it.

"For the time being we're going to play our cards close to the chest. CJ, if anyone asks – Josh has asked for the weekend off to attend to something for his mother. I'll call her and make sure that she knows what we're doing. If anyone digs too deep, we'll do what we normally do in these situations and remind them that we don't comment on the private lives of our staff. Get in touch with Danny again; let him know what we're doing. Tell him if he can keep the rest of the hounds off the scent that I will personally guarantee him a no holds barred interview with the President when he gets back to the States. In the meantime, Sam, I want you to liaise with Margaret – farm out what you can of Josh's work without raising too many eyebrows – we need to keep his office running. Anything that's out of your scope, bring to me and start working the story that Josh has had to rush home on family business and that I'm as pissed as hell at him for it. They all know Josh - they'll believe it. Toby – I want you to handle the Hill. Tripplehorn's still livid about Josh blowing his meeting off on Thursday but don't tell him any more than you have to. We don't want too many people knowing that Josh is away from the West Wing, but when they do find out, we want the story out there so that it doesn't seem too out of the ordinary. Keep your heads down – it's business as usual. Don't draw attention to yourselves and hopefully, the 'Josh flying south for the summer' story will hold. Now – what's next?"


	21. Chapter 21

**Sunday July ****7, 2002. Cairo – 1.38pm, local time.**

Josh arrived at the hotel a little after 1.30pm and called Danny to let him know he was back. Opening the door, he was hit by a welcome blast of icy air and decided he'd never complain about summers in the States again. Tossing the paper onto the table, he dumped the packages on his bed and reflected that he probably should have bought a suitcase while he was at it…

Grabbing a bottle of water from the mini bar, Josh sat down and looked at the list that Ahmed had left for him. There were two more things he needed to do to get his plan up and running – sort out the final changes to his appearance, and get the false documents he wanted. Running his hand over his chin, he could feel three days growth – he hadn't shaved since the morning of the 4th and since then, well he'd had a lot on his mind. And then when the idea for getting Donna out had come to him, he'd left it alone, one more element to his developing alter-ego.

Josh decided it was time to download the e-mails he'd been trying to avoid. His phone was already telling him his message bank was full, but he'd pick those up later. Now he had to face the music and find out exactly what his friends back home had to say.

Josh plugged in his laptop and turned it on, having decided that the fastest way for him to access his e-mails was to log on to the White House server remotely and view them as web mail, then do the same thing to retrieve his private e-mails. After logging into the West Wing gateway Josh tapped in his user ID and password. 75 emails? He blinked a couple of times. That had to be wrong. Only 75 in three days? He never had that few. Over three days he'd expect to have accumulated over a couple of hundred.

Scrolling through the list of incoming messages, Josh began to realize that at last, his friends had come to see that he had been telling the truth about Donna and that he wasn't in the middle of an episode. He was about to start reading when the door handle jiggled and Danny stepped inside.

Josh half-smiled at his friend.

"You look how I feel."

Danny gave him a flat stare.

"You know I'd like this place a whole lot better if I didn't have to change clothes every time I stepped out the door." Danny let his bag slide to the floor next to him as he flopped back on his bed. Laying his arm across his eyes he asked Josh wearily, "Did you get everything done?"

Josh stretched and got up from the table, grabbed another water from the fridge and walked over to tap Danny with it.

"Yeah, most of it. I still have a couple of things I need, and I'm waiting for Ahmed to get back to me with the details of his… contacts… for the rest."

Danny propped himself up on his elbows and squinted slightly. Josh knew that look of old - it was the look that Danny always got just before he went into 'super-reporter' mode.

"You're really getting into this aren't you?"

Josh eyed him warily.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. It's just strange that you'd drop everything, fly halfway around the world and land yourself in the centre of a mess of potential trouble for someone who's… well… basically, your assistant." Josh felt the muscles in his jaw clench and his teeth grind together. If Danny was aware of it he didn't let on and continued nonetheless. "I mean, I know Donna's been with you for a while and she's … um… special to you, but why not let the State Department handle it?"

Josh's face wore a look that had cowed many a veteran of the House as he frowned at his friend in disbelief and started pacing up and down the room.

"What the…? Danny? You're the one who sent me the information in the first place! You told me where you were staying and that you'd meet me there! You _knew _I'd be on that plane before you even sent that file. So why the hell are you asking me these questions now?!" He stopped, running his hand over his face when it dawned on him. His eyes narrowed as he turned to face Danny. "You've spoken to someone at the Post today, haven't you?" Danny half shrugged and had the decency to look at least a little sheepish. Josh started pacing again, getting angrier by the second. "And they've told you to get the damn story!"

"Whoa! Hang on!" Danny put up his hands in surrender. "Yes – I spoke to my editor this morning. Yes – he told me to get the story. And I told him he was going to have to wait." Josh flicked a disbelieving glare Danny's way. "Believe what you want, Josh. I only asked to find out if _you_ knew why you were here. You have to admit, you're sticking your neck a hell of a long way out for someone who's only an administrative assistant… if that's all she is to you."

"What? No!" Josh replied instinctively, indignation tainting his words. "It's nothing like that. Where'd you get the idea there was anything between Donna and me?"

The denial was automatic. He was an expert, a master of avoidance, and in any case, he wasn't lying. There was nothing going on between him and Donna. Nothing at all. He'd come here because his friend was in danger and he wanted to help. Lost in his own thoughts for a second, Josh realized Danny was speaking again, and caught the tail end of his next question.

"…. wouldn't you?"

"What?" Josh said, shaking his head.

"I said – but you'd like there to be, wouldn't you?"

Josh felt his throat constrict, as he sharply sucked in a breath.

"You're wrong, I –"

Danny just held his gaze.

"No…. no." Josh said quietly, turning away.

Danny sighed.

"You're an idiot Josh!"

"I'm sorry?" He whipped around to face Danny again.

"I said you're an idiot!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Josh could feel his anger flooding back.

"That," Danny all but shouted, "is supposed to mean, that if you won't admit it to anyone else, at least stop deluding yourself and be man enough to admit it!"

"_You think I don't?"_ Josh yelled back.

Danny was clearly taken back by the ferocity of Josh's reply. Suddenly realizing what he had said, Josh clamped his jaws together, turned abruptly and walked over to the window.

Damn it. Why the hell had he said that?

Because it's true, he argued with himself – you _are_ an idiot!

Danny opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a knock on the door. Needing to keep moving, Josh went over to open it.

Ahmed stood in the hallway.

"I've got it for you," he said as Josh stepped back to let him in. Glancing between the two friends Ahmed detected a distinct chill in the air. "What's happened?" he asked with concern.

"Nothing," Josh said with a half hearted wave of his hand. "What do you have for me?"

"I've found a guy in the Rhoda Island district who'll be able to supply you with the documents you want. I've had to run through some pretty crooked back channels but I found someone."

"How much?"

"Ten thousand."

"What?" Danny exclaimed with a yelp, as Josh, without hesitation, asked.

"US?"

"No - Egyptian pounds. If you're paying US, and I'm sure they'd like that, it would be around $1800."

Josh, still bristling from his conversation with Danny, walked over to his carry all and rummaged around in the bottom before pulling out an envelope brimming with one hundred dollar bills. Counting out twenty five, he stuck them in his wallet and turned back to Ahmed.

"When can I see him?"

The question caught Ahmed off guard.

"Uh - we can go now, if you like. I can make a call and the courier will pick us up from the hotel."

"Is that a good idea?" asked Danny. "We don't want to bring someone here who might be known to Darius."

"Sorry, no, not here." Ahmed hurried to reassure him. "I told him we would meet at the other hotel."

"Do we really need someone acting as a go-between?"

Ahmed and Danny exchanged looks before turning towards Josh, who was getting impatient. Danny cleared his throat.

"Josh, I... there's something you should… before I knew that Donna was involved in… this… I had Ahmed working on the story for other reasons. I wanted to break the slave ring open but the underworld element here in Cairo is even more suspicious of outsiders than our guys back home are." He cocked his head towards Ahmed, inviting him to carry on.

Ahmed took up the story.

"It took me three weeks to come up with the name of someone on Darius's staff; it took another week, and several hundred dollars to bribe the appropriate lowlifes to get Darius's name. I'm just saying that you need to be careful – guys like these are fast on their feet. They smell a rat, they'll be outta there like a shot, so you'll have to play it his way – or no way."

Josh shook his head and shrugged.

"I guess it's his way then."

Ahmed nodded.

"I'll get the car and meet you out front."

As the door closed behind Ahmed, Danny reached out and touched Josh on the shoulder. Josh turned his head, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"About before…." Danny started, not knowing exactly what to say. "It was stupid and I'm sorry."

The corner of Josh's mouth twitched into the shadow of a self mocking smile.

"I know."

Danny breathed a little easier.

"C'mon - let's go make you a felon."


	22. Chapter 22

Sunday July 7, 2002

**Sunday July ****7, 2002. Cairo – 2.18pm, local time.**

Twenty minutes and another hair raising car ride through the crowded streets of Cairo found the three men outside the Concorde Hotel. Josh and Danny clambered out of Ahmed's car as the young man verbally abused a fellow motorist who had attempted to steal the valuable parking spot he had found.

The row was beginning to escalate into a full blown brawl, when out of the shadow of the building next to the hotel, a weedy, grimy little man appeared, sidled up to Ahmed and started talking in low fast tones.

Something about him immediately caught Danny's 'reporters' eye. No more than about five foot five, the man had an unhealthy jaundiced pallor; a stark contrast to Ahmed's bronzed complexion Danny guessed that this was a man who didn't see a great deal of sunlight. His short cropped hair lay flat on his scalp and Danny could see the remains of a badly healed scar that ran from just above his right eyebrow right back up into his hairline. Dark circles framing sunken, drawn eyes gave him an even more cadaverous look and Danny decided immediately he didn't like the look of him. His posture was obsequious to the point of fawning, his left shoulder drooped slightly lower than his right and he seemed to be looking up at Ahmed from an angle. The man flashed a grin, showing a mouthful of yellowing teeth, as his nervous gaze flicked back and forth around him.

Ahmed turned to speak to the little man who was still cringing in front of him. Finally, shooting a look over his shoulder to where Josh and Danny were standing, Ahmed motioned for them to come over.

"This is Khalil." Ahmed motioned to the man who ran his none too clean hand over his hair before offering it to the two Americans.

Danny and Josh cautiously accepted it in turn.

"He says he can get you what you need, Josh."

Josh raised his eyebrows as he resisted the urge to wipe away the feel of Khalil's limp handshake. It had been cold and clammy, like shaking the underbelly of a weeklong dead fish. "That simple?"

"Yes, sirs." Khalil replied, his voice taking on a slithery oozing tone.

"Well, what do we do now?"

"I take you to man, he is good at papers."

"I don't understand." Josh was confused.

Ahmed spoke to Khalil briefly before answering Josh's question.

"Like I said back at the hotel. Khalil isn't the person we need to see… But he _is_ the person who can take us to the person we need to see."

"When can we go?"

"Now." The little man nodded furiously. "We go now. He scooted off down the side of the hotel, the other three having to move swiftly to keep up.

Danny fell into step beside Josh.

"Why do I feel like we've just met an extra from a Boris Karloff movie?" he hissed out of the side of his mouth. "I half expected him to say 'Yesss Mahster' back there."

Josh grunted and looked at Danny. "Dan – you don't have to do this you know… I can take it from here."

Danny was flattered… sort of – that Josh wanted him out of this.

"No way! I want this story, so I'm gonna see it through. Besides, with no one watching you, you tend to get yourself in trouble."

"When have I ever…" was as far as Danny let him get.

"Your powers of debate can rise to meet the Socratic wonder that is the White House Press Corps?" Danny quirked an eyebrow. "And don't think I didn't hear about the time you and Sam nearly set fire to the Mural Room!"

Josh pulled a face and waved dismissively.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…"

Danny grinned back at him until he turned to look at the van they had been led to. The grin faded abruptly, as he decided that the term 'van' was something that could only be loosely applied to this…. thing. A more accurate description would be to say that it was a death trap held together with rust and paint. Khalil motioned for the three of them to get in the back.

"I'm not getting in there!" protested Danny, noting that the only windows in the back were the two in the rear doors.

"I no take then," Khalil replied.

"He'll take us only on the condition that we can't see where we're going," whispered Ahmed.

"What 'we', Tonto? You're the only one who would know where the hell we were! _You_ sit in the back!"

"All or none!" Khalil made a cutting notion with his hand.

"Danny - just get in the damn van!" Josh called as he climbed up into it.

Danny frowned at Ahmed and Khalil and climbed in after him.

"Oh, my God…" The stench in the back was…. pungent. "Did this guy used to transport goats for a living?" Danny complained.

If Ahmed's driving skills were erratic, Khalil's bordered on suicidal. Danny wasn't sure whether not being able to see outside was a good or a bad thing as the van ploughed through traffic as though it had a death wish. Sitting on the corrugated floor with nothing to hold onto made the ride both harrowing and uncomfortable, but finally, after what seemed an age, the van screeched to a halt.

Khalil opened the back door and three rather green looking passengers staggered out into a narrow alley.

Danny moved over to Ahmed and said quietly. "Do you know this area?"

"All I can tell you is that we are in Rhoda" he whispered back.. "That's as close as it comes."

"See if you can recognize anything while we're here."

Ahmed nodded and walked off down the alleyway.

Khalil, practically bowing at Josh, motioned for them to follow him as he darted in through a back doorway.

Josh followed quickly with Danny close behind. The back corridor they were led into was grimy and smelled almost as bad as the van. Shafts of light from windows high in the wall cast long shadows down the interior and coming from somewhere in the distance was the sound of an infant crying.

They moved quickly and quietly through the corridor until Khalil stopped outside a heavy iron door with rivets the size of dimes around the frame and a slot at eye level. Tapping some sort of rhythmic signal, Khalil waited for a response. After a few seconds the slot opened to reveal a pair of eyes before snapping shut again. The sound of a number of locks clicking open followed and the mammoth door swung open.

The young Egyptian standing on the other side of the door could have been no more than twenty five. His dark brown hair reached his ears and parted straight down the middle giving his already lean face an extra length. He was dressed casually in tan cords and a light sweatshirt.

"'ang on mate!" The man gestured towards Khalil. "I was told there was only one." There was no mistaking the London accent. He turned towards Josh and Danny. "Sorry fellas, but if you want more than one deal we'll 'ave to renegotiate."

Josh stepped forward, past Khalil.

"I'm the only one looking for… a deal."

"Oh, right… okay, come into the office, then. I'm Hussain, by the way." He stepped aside and indicated for them to come in.

The room was dark, the only illumination provided by the desk lamp and computer screen on the desk in the middle.

Josh and Danny stood uncertainly just inside the doorway as Hussain flipped a couple of switches. A few seconds later, the room began to glow with the eerie blue of a halogen lamp. Once his eyes had adjusted, Danny quickly looked around the room. At first glance, he'd thought there had only been one computer in the small room. But now he could see there were a lot more. One side of the room was covered entirely with monitors, hard-drives, scanners, cameras and assorted other equipment, and Danny was reminded briefly of the back of the press-room at the White House.

And whilst he knew how to use a computer well enough to get his job done, that was the extent of his knowledge. Anything more complicated than internet banking and he was pretty much screwed.

"You're not Egyptian?" Josh was asking Hussain, who had flopped back onto a divan-style sofa.

"Noticed that, did ya?" He grinned. "Actually, I am – well, sort of. Me Mum emigrated when she was twenty one. She met me Dad in London, had a bit of a fling and then he buggered off, leaving Mum to bring me up. I'd pro'bly still be there, if I hadn't … erm… dabbled."

"Dabbled?"

"Yeah. I 'ad a pretty good job programming and stuff back in the UK, but I kinda got caught with me 'and in the till if you get my drift. I 'ad to make meself a bit scarce before the old Bill got in touch, so I thought I'd come and see the family. Get back to me roots as it were. SoNothing really, let's just say, the boys in blue suddenly started taking an interest in me. So," he spread his palms wide, grinning again, "'ere I am. Anyway – you got the dosh, or wot?"

"Sorry?" Josh squinted at him.

"The cash, mate!"

Josh pulled out his wallet, flipped it open and slapped the twenty five hundred he had grabbed before leaving the hotel down on the small table between him and Hussain.

"Will this cover it?" Josh arched an eyebrow.

As Hussain leaned forward to inspect the bills, Danny caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning slightly, but not enough to draw attention, he saw that Khalil was staring intently at something on the other side of him. Without moving his head, Danny directed his gaze towards whatever had captured the other man's interest – and realized that it was Josh's wallet, with his White House ID clearly visible inside. For a split second, Danny thought that Kahlil was trying to see if there was any more cash inside, but he was pretty sure that wasn't the case – it was the ID which had caught his attention. _One more thing to worry about_, Danny thought, as he took a step closer to the table, effectively blocking Khalil's view.

Khalil turned his head and spat contemptuously onto the floorboards and took a step back. Danny couldn't tell if Khalil knew that his move had been deliberate, but he knew that he'd be keeping a close eye on him from now on.


	23. Chapter 23

Sunday July 7, 2002

**Sunday July 7, 2002. Cairo – 2.45pm, local time.**

Josh, oblivious to the whole situation on the other side of the room, continued to watch Hussain, who had quickly picked up the money from the table and was now counting it for the second time.

"So, what do you want?"

Josh looked around and reaching out, dragged a chair over and sat down.

"I need a new identity created. Something that will stand up to more than a casual glance."

Hussain looked up at Josh as he slipped the now folded money into the pocket of his cords.

"Got anything in mind?"

"Yes."

"Got yourself into a bit of trouble and need to fly under the radar, huh?"

Josh ran a hand through his hair, and grinned, half-heartedly. "Something like that."

Digging into his pocket, he drew out the piece of paper he'd been using to jot down the details he thought a forger would need to know in order to create a believable identity, and tossed it on the table in front of Hussain, who picked it up and started to read.

Josh studied the man carefully as his brow began to crinkle. Still frowning, he looked up at Josh.

"There's some pretty intense stuff 'ere, y'know."

"Can you do it?"

"Well, this is a first…" Hussain laughed softly. "I mean normally the people I deal with are more interested in getting stuff like this _off_ their files… not put on it."

"Maybe, but can you do it!" Josh insisted.

"Yeah, I can do it." Hussain half growled back.

"How long?"

"Couple of days."

Josh frowned. That wasn't fast enough. He needed those documents by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.

"There's another twenty-five hundred in it for you if you get it done by lunchtime tomorrow."

Hussain looked a bit apprehensive – but didn't ask any questions.

"Can you do it?" Josh repeated in slow, measured tones.

Hussain nodded. "Okay… tomorrow lunchtime?"

Josh pursed his lips and nodded.

"Good. So, what do you need from me?"

Hussain stood up and, motioning for Josh to move to the other side of the room, sat down at a workstation. He smoothed out the piece of paper Josh had given him and jiggled the mouse to bring the screen back to life.

"Right, We can do the photo ID first if you like." He indicated for Josh to stand in front of a photographer's white backdrop.

"Uh, can we do that later? I have to get a couple of things sorted out before we do any photos."

Hussain started typing something up in a document instead.

"Sure," he said without looking away from the screen, "but you'll 'ave to be 'ere no later than 10am if you want this by noon tomorrow."

"Done." Josh agreed.

"Okay then… Does your new identity have a name?"

"Doctor Freideric Ryde: R-y-d-e."

Josh heard a snort behind him. He span around just in time to catch Danny placing a hand over his mouth to cover a 'cough'.

"What?" Josh snapped at his friend

"Freideric Ryde?" Danny said, his inflection rising on the surname.

"So?"

"Well…" Hussain drawled. "It's kind of a poncy name."

"It's really none of your business," Josh snapped back. He'd take shit from Danny because he was a friend, but he certainly didn't intend to take it from anyone else.

Hussain shrugged. "Okay. So where does Dr Ryde come from?"

"Somewhere in the UK."

Hussain eyed him suspiciously.

"Come on then – let's have it."

Josh frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Talk. If I'm making you come from the UK I want to make sure you can sound like it." Hussain grabbed the newspaper that was sitting on the desk next to him and gave it to Josh. "'ang on…" he rifled through the pages, "read this…" His words trailed off as his attention was caught by something on the front page. He looked up at Josh… then back to the paper. Josh caught his eye and raising an eyebrow, dared him to say something. Hussain felt Josh's gaze boring into him, before the urge to break the contact became irresistible and he looked away, shaking his head and holding out the paper once more. He cleared his throat. "So, like I said – read this." Josh noticed that Hussain had turned the paper to the back page, and he quickly read a section about the results of the English Premier League.

"Yeah; not bad. That'll do." Hussain stopped Josh mid sentence. "I'll put into your history that you've spent the last ten years in Australia and New Zealand. That way, no one will question it if your accent's dodgy; no one ever understands a bloody word that lot have to say anyway!"

Hussain typed in silence for a few moments more before folding up the piece of paper and handing it back to Josh.

"Right... Okay…" he pushed himself away from his workstation. You're asking me to put information in several well protected databases. But I should be able to get everything done. Come back to me around 9.30 tomorrow and we'll do the photos for your passport and stuff."

Hussain got up and moved the three of them towards the door, watching Josh all the time out of the corner of his eye. Danny and Khalil left first, but as Josh made to leave, Hussain put his hand up across the door to stop him.

"I'm just small fry. I don't want to be anything bigger than a blip on the landscape. I'm not looking for a sudden introduction to a bunch of guys in black balaclavas, if you get my drift."

Josh squared off opposite him and said quietly, "Believe me, I need to keep this quiet even more that you do. You do your job and no one will ever know you even existed."

Hussain dropped his arm and allowed Josh to pass.

"9.30 tomorrow then," he said.

"9.30," Josh replied with a curt nod, stepping outside into the alleyway. Ahmed and Khalil were nowhere to be seen.

"What was that about?" Danny asked as they walked over to the side of the van.

"He just wanted to remind me that sometimes small things cast big shadows. He doesn't want to get in any deeper than he needs to."

"So… what exactly was on that list you gave him?"

"An outline of what I want in Dr Ryde's history."

"He seemed to think it was involved. Just how nefarious are you planning on making yourself?"

Josh sighed.

"Dr Frederic Ryde; Former surgeon from the UK, Struck off by the General Medical Council in 1990 after being implicated in a drug ring and accused of indecent assault by four of his female patients. – but there wasn't enough evidence for a trial. Criminal record for spousal abuse and one for assault against his former girlfriend.

"Wow, you're not a nice person."

"You think it'll hold up."

"Depends…"

"On what?"

"Two things. One, how well Hussain can do his job…"

"And the other?"

"Just hope to God no-one needs surgery while you're around!"

Josh grinned.

Suddenly both men heard Ahmed speaking in Arabic, his voice coming from behind the van. Hearing a hollow thud, Danny turned around, Josh peering past him to see what had happened. At first he saw Ahmed approaching from the other side of the van, but standing just near the back door, not three feet from where he and Danny had been standing, was Khalil,.

The little man started speaking again in a rapid high-pitched voice, obviously answering whatever question Ahmed had asked him and then scurried off towards the driver's door.

Danny called Ahmed over. "What happened?"

"I was just walking back down the alleyway while you and Josh were talking and I saw him by the back of the van. I couldn't say for certain… but I think he was listening to you. I mean, he didn't have a reason to be there, he was just standing there…. Anyway, I asked him if there was a problem." Ahmed shrugged. "He jumped about a foot in the air and backed off really quickly."

Josh and Danny exchanged glances.

"I think it's time we got back to the hotel."

Josh nodded in agreement. He didn't particularly like Khalil… something just wasn't sitting right.

Ahmed went and spoke to Khalil and moments later they were in the back of the van and leaving the Rhoda district. The three men rode in the back in silence for a while until Danny looked at Josh, with a glint in his eye….

"Dr Freideric Ryde?"

Josh cocked an eyebrow – but said nothing. He'd tell Danny why he'd chosen that name in his own time.

Once again the van pulled to a sudden lurching stop and the three of them got pitched sideways.

"Get me out of here," Danny groaned.

The back doors opened and they all tumbled out.

Ahmed moved over and spoke briefly to Khalil who half frowned in Josh's direction before getting back in the van and driving off.

Josh watched the van disappear around the corner, all the while feeling that Khalil hadn't gone too far away. Josh looked across the street to where Ahmed's car was parked.

"Danny – you said you had a room here didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Let's just hang here for a while okay?"

Danny raised his eyebrows at his friend.

"You trust him about as far as I can throw him?"

"Something like that."

They retreated up to Danny's eighth floor hotel room, which was a far cry from the room at the Marriott. One barely double bed took up a vast proportion of the available space, two chairs with worn upholstery were tucked into a corner next to a battered looking table; but it was clean and cheap, which was about all that could really be said in it's favor.

Ahmed sat on the edge of the bed while Danny and Josh took the two chairs.

"So. Did you find out where we were?" Danny asked his assistant.

"Yes. The place is in the south east section of Rhoda – I should be able to find it again if we need to."

"Good. Now, what's next?"

Josh frowned at Danny.

"What?"

"Are you channeling the President now?" he half laughed in reply.

Danny looked at him quizzically. "Seriously; what do we do now?"

Josh glanced down at his watch; It was nearly 3.30pm. "Now? Well I've still got a couple of things that I need to do before tomorrow morning, so I'll have to get back to the Marriott."

"Do you need a hand?" Danny asked.

"No." Josh replied flatly. He really didn't want any witnesses to what he had planned for the rest of the afternoon.

"What are you up to, Josh?" Danny asked, suspicion lacing his words.

"Nothing you have to worry about. Ahmed, you got those appointments I asked for?"

"Sure". The young man leaned forward and handed Josh a piece of folded paper. "Your first one is at 4.15."

Josh gave them a cursory glance. "Great. Thanks for that Ahmed."

Ignoring Danny's piercing looks Josh changed the subject. "Was it just me, or did anyone else really not trust Khalil? I mean, great work Ahmed. He's obviously a guy who knows his stuff, but… I really don't trust him."

No one spoke for a moment or two. Then Danny said, "I've had this song title stuck in my head all afternoon." Josh blinked, wondering where on Earth this was going .

"What?"

"_Don't pay the Ferryman_." Danny paused for a moment. "Josh, I don't trust him either. I don't want you getting sucked into something you mightn't be able to get yourself out of later."

Josh snorted.

"Danny, my ability to get 'sucked into things' is second only to my ability to piss off Republicans. If it's going to happen, it's going to happen."

"What do you do when it does?"

"Either stand and fight, or run like hell."


	24. Chapter 24

Sunday July 7, 2002

**Sunday July 7, 2002. Cairo – ****7.08pm, local time.**

Just after seven, Danny was distracted from the notes he was typing up by a light tapping at his hotel room door. Josh was back – finally. He'd left again just after they'd got back to the Marriott, taking Ahmed with him, saying he had a couple of things he needed to finalize before tomorrow. But Danny had expected him back before now. Finishing the line he'd been wrestling with, he jumped up and opened the door. _And what the hell was Josh knocking for anyway?_ – Danny thought, _he's got a key_.

"It's about damn time you…" The words died unspoken on his lips as Danny realized that it wasn't who he'd been expecting. The man on the other side of the door was a stranger. Taller than Danny, he was dressed in an expensive-looking well-tailored black suit.

But… for all that he was a stranger; there was something eerily familiar about the guy that Danny just couldn't put his finger on. The newcomer's mustache and black beard was trimmed close and his widow-peaked hair of the same color was slicked back off his face. His face was long and lean and sported what could charitably be called a 'golf tan', that rich golden tone of a westerner with too much money and time on their hands.

"I'm sorry," Danny apologized. "I was expecting someone else." The man's eyebrow arched

"Obviously," he replied in a crisp British accent that also seemed eerily familiar.

"Can I help you?"

The man shook his head. "It's of no consequence," he sniffed. "I was looking for a friend. I must have the wrong floor – my apologies." The man nodded and turned to move off.

"No problem. I hope you find your friend."

The stranger turned back and smiled. Once again, alarm bells rang in Danny's head. That smile – like a shark circling its prey… It was far too familiar.

"I don't know if you will," he started, "but just in case you do happen to run into her, you might like to remember… she likes 'goldfish'. Can't get enough of them."

The corners of the man's mouth twitched into a shadow of a smirk.

"Gold… fish?" Danny stood there dumbfounded, his eyes widening as he took a really good look at the man standing in front of him. "Oh, my God!" he exclaimed! "Josh?"

Immediately, the man's posture changed from ramrod straight to the more relaxed pose of Josh Lyman. He rewarded Danny with a full grin, and even then, through the beard, Danny could make out the ever present dimples that seemed to set the 'Lyman ho's' ablaze.

Danny scanned the hallway.

"Quick," he motioned, "get in here."

Josh sidled past him and Danny closed the door to his room.

"Wow… I mean, wow! That's… amazing!"

Josh's smile widened.

"Hey I must be doing something right. I mean, if I can fool you…" He walked over and grabbed a soda from the mini-bar. "You want one?"

Danny shook his head, still confounded by the 'stranger' standing in front of him. Now that Josh had relaxed into a more familiar posture, Danny could tell it was him underneath. But when he'd first seen him… The change was impressive. Danny was so used to seeing Josh in a certain light that suddenly to see him as someone different was a little unnerving. He really hadn't thought Josh had it in him; such a change in such a short period of time was really quite remarkable.

As Danny studied Josh with a reporter's eye, he could tell his friend was starting to get uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

"It's not much…" he started, fidgeting with the ring pull of his drink. "It's just a color rinse and one of those spray on tans."

Danny bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't dare comment on the fact that Josh had even considered – let alone gone as far as _getting_ a spray on tan.

In fact, Danny didn't want to comment on anything. Instead he used a trick that he had learnt from one of his TV buddies to see how Josh would react.

He just sat and waited, knowing that sooner or later the silence would become uncomfortable and Josh would start talking.

"I've got this uber-strength soapy thing to help get most of it off when I need to."

Josh fidgeted uncomfortably, his eyes fixed firmly on the carpet at his feet.

"What about the rinse?" Danny enquired quietly

Danny could see the tips of Josh's ears go a deep scarlet, even through the tan.

"That'll come out in about six washes – I can use some of the soap on that, but I have to be careful not to get it…" he paused. "Look, can we change the subject?"

Danny nearly laughed out loud. He could tell that Josh was insanely uncomfortable talking about this. It was rather amusing – and if everything went well over the next few days, something that Danny would be able to keep in his back pocket for many, many years worth of enjoyment.

"So… the accent?" Danny drawled, changing the subject.

"What about it?"

"Seriously… It sounds like some bad stand up comic impersonating Tim Curry!"

Josh looked a little offended.

"It's not that bad!"

Danny snorted.

"Yeah, man – It really is. Who were you trying to do… Frank'n'furter?"

"Not necessarily," Josh replied, an edge creeping into his voice.

Danny smirked.

"So what did you end up deciding calling this walking lounge act again?"

"Dr Freidric Ryde." Josh replied through gritted teeth.

"A nice innocuous name I see."

"Hey! It means something to me, okay?"

"Don't get your tights in a twist, Giselle!" Danny held up his hands. "I'm just sayin', are you sure it wasn't _Rocky Horror_ inspired?"

The flat look from Josh was all the answer Danny needed.

"You really have no idea how weird it is looking at you like that!" Danny laughed.

"How do you think it feels from _this_ side?"

Danny shook his head.

"So. What's the plan now?"

Josh flopped down in the armchair and tilted his head back to look at the ceiling.

"Tomorrow morning, I go back to see Hussain, get my credentials and then Dr Ryde checks into the Marriott. He's going to hit the gaming floor and the pool deck and see what crawls out from under the rocks."

"You think it's gonna be that easy?"

"Ha!" Josh snorted. "I wish. Probably not." He scrubbed his hand over his face – another gesture so familiar to Danny as being Josh's that he found it more than a little unsettling to see it coming as it did from 'someone else'. "But hey… I've gotta get a break sometime, right?"

Danny gave a half hearted grin and hoped someone, somewhere was listening. Josh Lyman had been clocking up karma points longer than anyone he knew.

"What do you need me to do?" Danny asked.

Josh looked at him. "For the moment? Nothing."

Danny was a little shocked at the chilling note that that had suddenly crept into Josh's voice.

"Okay." Danny reached over and pulled the hotel menu from the sideboard. "You hungry?"

"Not really."

"You sure? I'm gonna order anyway."

"Nah, I'm fine. You go ahead."

Danny eyed his friend, realizing that part of the reason he hadn't recognized him before was due to more than the fake tan, neatly trimmed beard and darkened hair. _Clothes maketh the man_, as the aphorism said - and suddenly Danny noticed just how true those words were. Back in DC, Josh had a tendency to wear whatever was to hand – his suits often looked a little baggy on him. Here and now, with this tailored suit hugging his form, Danny noticed that Josh seemed to have lost a third of his normal bulk. With the tan, the beard and the hair slicked back his face looked longer, leaner and yes even meaner than it ever had before.

And there was something more… a… darkness that seemed to shadow this man – it was something that nagged at Danny – something he couldn't quite identify… around the eyes. This character Josh had invented definitely had an aura of something more than faintly threatening about him. With a flash of insight, Danny glimpsed the darkness that was part of Josh's make-up. He thought of all the things that Josh could do… if he had the mind or the temperament. All the things he possibly _would _do – in this alternate persona. Danny shuddered. He wasn't sure he liked Dr Freidric Ryde.


	25. Chapter 25

The low repetitive bleating of a goat woke Danny from his sleep… A goat that turned out to be the alarm on the table beside hi

**Monday July 8****, 2002. Cairo – 7.30am, local time.**

The low repetitive bleating of a goat woke Danny from his sleep… a goat that turned out to be the alarm on the table beside his bed. 7.30 had come way too fast for his liking. With a half hearted groan he peeled back the covers and sat up, blinking his sleep blurred eyes when he noticed an unfamiliar figure standing at the foot of the bed.

"Geez, man…" Danny gasped, his heart racing.

Josh spun round at the very unmanly sound that issued from his startled roommate's lips.

"Don't lurk like that!"

"Who's lurking?"

Josh had arisen much earlier in the morning, his body clock having finally adjusted to the new time-zone. Today was the first day of his concerted effort to retrieve Donna; today he would become Friedric Ryde completely for the first time and he was anxious for the day to start. He had showered and changed into his 'traveling' clothes – a cotton dress shirt and linen trousers. Josh smirked; it must have come as a bit of shock to Danny to find him standing at the end of the bed. He'd done a double take himself when he'd faced the mirror that morning. It was like looking at a stranger.

He and Danny had been up late, discussing how today was going to play out until the early hours. Josh would go back to Hussain with Ahmed and Kahlil to put the final touches to his new identity. Then Khalil would take them back to the Concorde, where they would part company with him and then Ahmed would drop Josh at the airport in time to 'meet' the 10.15 flight from Sydney. Josh would then catch a taxi back to the Marriott and book in as Dr Ryde.

"How long have you been up?" Danny eyed him suspiciously.

"Since about five," Josh shrugged. It wasn't the earliest he had ever been up, but it wasn't exactly a lie in for him either.

Danny ruffled his hair with his hands. "You're a masochist you know that don't you?"

Josh flicked his friend a grin.

"What time are you supposed to be meeting Hussain?"

"Nine. So Ahmed should be picking me up in about half an hour. We're meeting Khalil at the Concorde at eight thirty."

"You want me to come?" Danny asked pulling a bottle of water out of the mini-bar.

"Nah. I'll be fine," Josh replied flippantly.

"I hope this guy is as good he says."

"_You _hope!"

Josh started pacing. He could never stay still at the best of times, but now, the anticipation of finally being able to act, to _do_ something to get Donna back was starting to build inside. He would have gone for a walk, were it not for the fact that technically he shouldn't be here at all.

"Josh," Danny growled as he watched him pace. "Sit down before you wear a track in the carpet!"

Josh grimaced and lowered himself into a chair.

"Thank you," Danny sighed. "Watching you pace gives me motion sickness." Then with a wicked grin, he decided to have a little fun. "You know – you could give George Hamilton a run for his money with that tan."

"Would you just shut up about the tan?" Josh replied wearily, at the same time realizing what Danny was doing. Today was critical. Josh knew he had 48 hours to get to Darius and ingratiate himself sufficiently to get invited to the auction. If he couldn't pull that off, well, everything would go to hell and he wouldn't be able to get Donna out this way. And Danny knew that as well as he did; he was just trying to lighten the mood, to provide a little distraction from what Josh was going to have to face soon.

Half an hour later, Josh was ready to pull out his hair by its roots. Patience had never been his strong suit – he hated waiting – always had. He hated being idle, and now, when he was so close to actually being able to finally do something about this whole situation, his frustration at the waiting was fast becoming unbearable.

At last there was a tap at the door.

Josh sprang from his chair and walked over to glance through the peep hole. It was Ahmed, dead on time.

He unlatched the door and pulled it open.

Ahmed's face broke into a broad grin as he stepped into the room.

"Good morning," he said cheerily.

Danny looked between them, dumbfounded.

"What's wrong, Danny?" Josh asked, raising an eyebrow.

Danny narrowed his eyes at Ahmed. "You knew what he was up to."

"Well… he asked me for a list of places and then I saw him yesterday when he came out of the sal…"

"Don't finish that word!" Josh growled.

Ahmed flashed him a toothy grin and jerked his thumb towards the door. "We should get going."

"Right."

Josh grabbed his sunglasses and a baseball cap that Danny had dug out of his luggage the night before.

"Good luck." Danny said simply.

"Thanks." Josh turned and looked at his friend, a small lump forming in his throat. He turned back to Ahmed. "Right… let's go meet the weasel and get this over with…"

One more hair-raising journey later and Josh and Ahmed were once again standing outside the Concorde hotel.

They had only been there a few minutes when the rickety old transit van that had met them yesterday pulled up with a wheeze.

Khalil, looking – if possible – even seedier than he had the day before, oozed out of the drivers seat and scuttled over to them.

Through his sunglasses Josh watched for the little man's reaction to his now changed appearance. At first Khalil didn't appear to recognize him, but suddenly the man's eyes widened in recognition – and something more. Josh studied him from behind his tinted glasses and realized, as they were escorted to the back of the rancid van once more, that he was being sized up… but for what reason, he couldn't yet make out.

The door to the van opened and the stench flooded over them. Josh fought a gag reflex and hauled himself inside, Ahmed following closely.

They sat in silence until Josh was sure they were out into the traffic, where any discussion would be covered by the noise of the van.

"When we get to Hussain's I don't want you to let our 'friend' out of your sight," Josh said quietly. It wasn't worth taking any chances.

"You're the boss," Ahmed nodded.

"There's something I really don't like about this guy. I don't trust him."

"I don't trust half the people I work with," Ahmed snorted.

"Try working for the Federal Government once in a while!"

The van suddenly lurched to a screeching stop, punctuated by a blast on the horn and some obviously strong language from Khalil.

Josh could see Khalil through the grimy interior window. He was leaning out of the driver's window bellowing something in Arabic to another driver. Josh took note of the little man's actions; they were completely different from what he would have expected given what he had seen of him so far. The tone of his voice had changed – it was deeper, stronger and far more authoritative. It sounded – albeit in a different language – like the tone Toby took with his staff on a bad day.

"Ahmed, can you make out what they're saying?"

He moved closer to the front of the van, trying to listen.

"He's yelling at another driver who's cut him up and caused a jam…" he started. "Now he's… wow…!" Ahmed pulled back and looked at the back of Khalil's head in surprise.

"What?" Josh urged.

"He just made a very improper suggestion about the other guy's mother and the family goat… and suggested a couple of things that I think are anatomically impossible," Ahmed smiled. "Hang-on… our guy's coming back…"

Sure enough, through the perspex Josh could make out the figure of a man in white moving back towards the driver's side. Great… that's all he needed – his driver to be arrested in a road rage assault.

There was a sudden explosion of heated language that sounded far more threatening as they were unable to see the person making the threat. Suddenly, the panel behind Ahmed's head wobbled in and out accompanied by a violent bang. Ahmed leapt about a foot forward and spun round on the spot, scrambling frantically backwards to the same side of the van as Josh.

Josh watched as Khalil jumped out of the van to confront the man, his own yelling increasing in volume. He could hear the two combatants shouting at each other for all they were worth when suddenly… it just stopped. A moment later Khalil climbed back into his seat and a few seconds after that, they were on the move again.

"What the hell happened?" Josh asked in amazement.

"I'm not sure… they were both yelling so loudly I couldn't actually make out what they were saying." Ahmed paled, still visibly shaken by the start he'd been given. "Do you think he… attacked him?"

Josh thought about it. Khalil had been quite calm when he had gotten back into the van. "I don't think so…" If he'd attacked someone, either he was a very cool customer, or he'd used other methods to calm the man down.

A small knot of worry started to form in Josh's belly. He felt like he was missing something, he just couldn't put his finger on what it was…


	26. Chapter 26

Either Josh was getting blasé about the drivers in Cairo, or this time the trip to Rhoda was a little better and soon he again found himself on the dingy backstreet near the alleyway that led to Hussain's lair.

He stepped out of the van towards the alleyway, only to find Khalil moving after him. Josh looked at Ahmed who instantly recognized what he wanted him to do; stepping in front of the little man, he intercepted him with a raised hand. As he moved away, he could hear Ahmed talking to Khalil in low tones.

Josh once again maneuvered his way down the dingy passageway between the houses until he came to the metal door. He heard the steely hiss of the window being drawn back shortly after knocking.

Hussain's eyes peered down at him.

"Yes? Can I help?"

"I'm here for my papers."

"I'm sorry mate, but I think you've got the wrong house." The slit started to slide shut.

"Hussain…" Josh hissed. "I'm here for 'Dr Ryde'."

The window slid open again slowly and Josh could see the other man narrow his eyes.

"Oh, God! It's you!"

Josh stood back as the various bolts and locks were opened from the other side. The door opened and a fairly haggard looking Hussain peered out.

"Come in… come in…"

Barely squeezing his way through the gap Hussain had made in the doorway, Josh made his way into the familiar semi-darkness, turning at the sound of the locks closing behind him. Hussain flicked on the light, illuminating his work area.

"I really didn't recognize you… it's amazing!" Hussain said as he circled him.

"Look - do you have my papers done?" Josh replied, trying to cut through the chit chat.

Hussain blinked. "Oh… right… sure…." He coughed. "It was a challenge to set it all up, but I think I have everything you need. I just need to get some photo ID for your passport and the like."

Hussain pointed to a curtained off area over to one corner.

"Over there."

Josh stepped in and took a seat behind the curtain.

"Look at the red dot on the wall and think pretty thoughts!" Hussain's voice carried through the ratty piece of cloth.

Josh thought of the expression he wanted to show on the photo… distain and arrogance. Gathering his thoughts just in time, he looked at the dot on the wall, registering a flash of light, which was followed in quick succession by two more.

"Okay, that's all I need," Hussain called.

Josh stepped out from behind the curtain and moved over to Hussain's main terminal. There on the screen was exactly the image he was hoping to project. That of a cold and ruthless bastard.

Josh watched as the other man skillfully cut and pasted the picture across into another program ready for a print run.

"Nice work."

"I try," Hussain grinned as a printer on the other side of the room came to life. "Sit down for a bit, " he said, poinring to a derelict sofa in the corner, "this is gonna take a few minutes to finish off."

Josh forced himself to sit in silence in the corner while Hussain did his thing. True to his word, it only took him a few minutes to finish up. He sauntered over to where Josh was sitting and dropped a buddle of papers on the table in front of the sofa.

"Okay, there we have it - one passport, travel documents, visas, bank account, print out of criminal record for your information, and everything else the newly minted super-spy could want."

Josh flicked through the new passport; it was British but had the markings of entries and exits from Australia and half a dozen other countries. He scanned the criminal file - everything seemed to be in order.

"Just how deep were you able to go?" he asked.

Hussain shrugged.

"This'll get you past a cursory glance if that's what you mean. There's enough background detail buried in there that the only way a person would be able to tell that Freidric Ryde wasn't real would be to speak to someone who 'knew' him. But that would lead them to a paper trail of a different color. You'll be able to fool whoever it is you're after with this stuff. To all intents and purposes you're now Dr Freidric Ryde." Hussain picked up one of the pieces of paper. "Your 'flight' arrives in a little under two hours. Go to the airport and ask for a man named Fasil in customer service… for $50 US he'll be able make it look like you've just come out of the arrivals area to keep up the façade."

Josh stood up, collected up the paperwork and nodded.

"Thank you. Hopefully, we'll never see each other again." He leveled a flat stare at Hussain. "Open your mouth to anyone about this, though, and I promise you that won't be the case."

Hussain's face blanched before he straightened his spine.

"Do I look suicidal to you? I've been in the game long enough and seen too many operators disappear into the night not to know when to keep my head down." His eyes flashed. "If anyone gets information about you, then it's not going to be from me, I can promise you that…"

Hussain stepped over to the door and opened it once more. "Enjoy your stay 'Dr Ryde'," he sneered as Josh stepped out into the alleyway.

Tucking the papers into his inside breast pocket, Josh walked back to the van. He was one step closer to getting Donna back. Nodding to Ahmed and Khalil in passing, he walked around to the back of the van. Khalil dipped his head in quick acknowledgement and scuttled over to open the van doors for Josh and Ahmed. Josh climbed inside without saying a word, followed closely by Ahmed, who was looking slightly worried. The door closed behind them with a clang and seconds later, the van rocked as Khalil climbed into the driver's seat.

When the van was moving again, Josh breathed a sigh of relief.

"Did he have everything you need?" Ahmed asked.

Josh handed him the newly minted passport. Ahmed took it, turned it over in his hands and whistled.

"I'd heard he was good, but I didn't know he was _this_ good!"

Josh sniffed. "He seems to know his stuff alright."

"So what do we do now?"

"WE…" Josh emphasized the word, "do nothing. I, on the other hand need to get to the airport so I can meet up with the doctor's incoming flight."

"Are you going to be alright?" Ahmed asked, concern written across his young face.

"Yeah – I'll be fine. I'll grab a quick shower at the Concorde and then head out. Contact Danny – let him know that everything went to plan and that I'll try and get a message to him in the next 24 hours."

They sat in silence for the rest of the journey. Josh was lost in his own thoughts. As always there were a hundred little things running around in his brain – If anything in the universe was going to prove the 'chaos' theory, his brain would be the place to start. Josh closed his eyes and was trying to practice some deep breathing exercises to clear his mind when the van lurched to a shuddering halt.

They heard the driver's door open and close; moments later the back of the van opened to reveal Khalil squinting in at them.

"We here," he mewed. "You pay me now."

Josh slid forward and got out of the van, wiping his hands on his pants legs; they were in the same back alley behind the Concorde where they had met prior to their departure that morning.

Josh fished his wallet out of his pocket and handed two crinkled US bills over to the weasly man. Licking his lips in anticipation Khalil snatched the notes from Josh and hurried back to the front of the van. With lightning speed the van was gone, leaving Josh and Ahmed standing in a puff of acrid fuel fumes.

Josh coughed a couple of times before the fumes dissipated.

"Do you get the feeling he wanted to be someplace else?" he asked with a smirk as he and Ahmed walked down the alleyway towards the front of the hotel.

A few minutes later they had gathered together Josh's baggage and were on the road to the airport.

"Don't hang around," Josh told Ahmed as he climbed out of the car.

"You sure you'll be alright?" Ahmed asked.

"Yeah… I have the name of the guy I need to see… I'll wing it from there." Josh hoisted up his bag. "Like I said before, tell Danny I'll try to contact him but I can't be certain when. I've left my cell, my passport and my wallet in the bedside drawer - can you get Danny to hold onto them for me? They're the only bits of ID I have for 'me'."

Ahmed nodded acknowledgement. "Good luck, Josh," he said as he climbed into the car and drove off.

Josh wandered back through the madness he had left only a few days before. Negotiating his way across the floor, he found the customer service desk.

A few short words to the hostess behind the counter soon found Josh sitting waiting for the mysterious Fasil. An hour later he was still there, and by now, his nerves were on edge. It wasn't that important that he be seen leaving the arrivals lounge, but it would certainly help if Darius was as thorough as everyone said he was. He fought the urge to pace. Josh Lyman would have worn a hole in the carpet by now but Freidric Ryde was much more reserved. Finally a tall thin man in overalls and a nametag in Arabic came over towards him

"You are Dr Ryde?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes," Josh replied, holding out a $50 note.

"Follow me," Fasil said as he took the note.

He stepped off at a brisk pace, leading Josh through a series of back corridors and rooms and up a flight of stairs, finally emerging in the area just beyond the customs desk. Milling with the other passengers, Josh placed himself directly in the path of several of the CCTV cameras dotted around the arrivals area before walking into the main airport and out to the taxi rank.

He strode over to a cab and looked at the driver imperiously.

"The Marriott," he snapped.

The driver shot him a dirty look as he got out to put Josh's luggage in the trunk while Josh climbed into the back of the cab.

The ride into the Marriott was silent, Josh staring blankly out at the scenery as it passed by.

Arriving at the hotel, Josh got out and watched as the driver dumped his bags unceremoniously on the driveway. Apparently this obnoxious new persona was working.

A bell hop promptly wheeled over a luggage trolley and loaded Josh's few items on to it.

The petite young woman behind the counter smiled as Josh walked up to her.

"Welcome to the Grand Marriott Cairo. You are checking in today, sir?"

"Yes," Josh looked down his nose at her. "Booking's under the name of Ryde."

The girl looked down at her computer screen and tapped a few keys.

"Ah – yes, Dr Ryde. We have you booked in for two nights, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Would you like smoking or non smoking?"

"Non."

More tapping,

"You are paying in cash?" she asked.

"Yes."

"We require a deposit of fifty percent for cash payments...."

Josh didn't allow her to finish. He reached into his breast pocket, took out the new money folder that sat in there and pulled out a handful of one hundred dollar bills, dropping them on the counter.

"Will that cover it?"

The girl blinked. "Yes, sir," she replied, scooping the cash towards her. "If you could just sign here, please…" She pushed the registration paperwork across the desk. As Josh signed he noticed her reach under the desk to retrieve one of the white laminate cards that all hotels seemed to use nowadays and watched her place it inside a cardboard folder. "Your room is 2314," she said as she slid the card across to him.

Josh took the card without saying a word and turned on his heel. The bell hop who'd picked up his luggage was already several meters ahead of him moving towards the elevators.


	27. Chapter 27

The room that Josh was shown to was opulent to say the least. A two bedroom suite on the 23rd floor with sweeping views of Cairo, it was costing him a small fortune, but it was definitely worth it. Ryde needed to look as though money was no object, as though he were a player, and the suite certainly helped give that impression. It was definitely a step up from Danny's room, and that had been nothing to sneeze at.

He waited for the young bellhop to lower his bags to the ground, handing him a wad of crisp new bills absently, as if this was a normal action. The young man's face split into a wide grin and he backed out of the room bowing frantically along the way.

Okay, so he hadn't noticed exactly how much he had given the porter – but from his reaction – it had certainly been more than enough, which was good. Josh wanted to start letting it be known that the guest in room 2314 was flush.

As the young man was about to leave, Josh signaled for him to stop, a sneer forming on his lips. "Do you know of a hotel guest by the name of Darius?"

The bellhop's eyes widened as he swallowed and nodded his head slowly.

"Do you know if he's in the hotel at the moment?"

Again the bellhop nodded. Josh might as well have asked him to reach into a pot and pull out a live cobra if the expression on the young man's face was anything to go by. Pulling another fifty dollars from his wallet, he saw the bellhop's eyes widen as he nodded slowly, taking the proffered bill and pocketing it quickly.

"Good. That's all." Josh waved imperiously and turned away from the door. He was counting on the gossip grapevine to be as busy here as in any other workplace around the world. Even if the bellhop wasn't on Darius' payroll, he certainly knew who Darius was and with any luck, Darius would soon be hearing about Dr Freidric Ryde.

Josh needed to circulate and be 'seen'. He'd decided that one of the best ways to get noticed would be to start throwing money around. Nothing got spotted faster than a new arrival with lots of cash, so he planned on going to the hotel casino, playing fast and loose with a ridiculous amount of money and making a special point of handing out fat tips to the staff.

Time to put part two of his plan into action.

He quickly up-ended his luggage into the drawers and wardrobe in the master bedroom and selected what he wanted to wear before grabbing a quick shower. Half an hour later he was ready to hit the casino floor.

Josh paused momentarily to look himself over in the full length mirror – and didn't like who he saw staring back at him. Since his transformation, Josh had taken great pains not to examine his reflection too closely, finding it at best un-nerving not to see his own face looking back at him. The changes had been small but surprisingly effective. With his hair slicked back and the neatly trimmed beard the whole shape of his face was different. Add to that the fake tan… Josh had never been so swarthy in his life. Donna joked about her alabaster complexion, but nine times out of ten it was he who ended up beet red and peeling. The overall effect was somewhat unsettling. He looked leaner, meaner… he looked exactly how he wanted to look.

It had been his intention all along to make Ryde unpleasant – viciously unpleasant if needs be. He had to be the type of character who would think it nothing to misuse a woman. He had been trying to get himself into the mind set from the moment he had come up with the idea, but he hadn't really thought how it was going to make him feel, having to be this scumbag when the moment finally came.

According to the old saying, _necessity was the mother of invention_. Well if that was true he was planning on being the meanest 'mother' around. As a plan born of necessity, his wasn't a bad one – it was just… well… he'd spent so much of his life being one of the "good guys" that having to cross the line, having to be someone so much the antithesis of who he was, was going to take a lot out of him – and he hadn't fully considered just how much until now.

Shaking himself mentally, he drew himself up, lengthening his spine and lifting his head slightly higher than usual so that he would consciously be looking down his nose at people. Josh was used to putting on an act – he did it day in day out – except that he was usually doing it to browbeat someone into voting to give healthcare to millions who had none, or to ensure a better education for underprivileged children. But this was for a good cause too, he reminded himself.

Moving away from the mirror, he picked up his wallet and sunglasses and put them in the pockets of his jacket. His alter-ego now had a passport, a bank account, all the relevant travel papers, and for the benefit of anyone who wanted to do a bit of digging, a nice little criminal record. Now it was time to move on to the next step in his plan – ingratiate himself with Darius and his cronies and somehow get into a position from where he could get Donna out as soon as possible.

Josh knew that whatever he did would have to be flashy but not too obvious – he needed to get on the inside quickly but without arousing suspicion, which was going to be difficult – but not impossible. Impossible wasn't an option he often considered in any aspect of his life and it certainly wasn't going to be _any_ option in this particular situation. He wouldn't allow it. He was focused on one thing and one thing only, and come hell or high water, it was damn well going to happen.

He made his way to the elevator, trying to put a spring into his step. God knew, Donna had teased him enough times about his so-called 'swagger' – which he'd of course vehemently denied having, but this was one time where he could actually be honest and admit that, yes, he may just quite possibly have the slightest hint of an arrogant, obnoxious strut to his step. From tonight it would work in his favor. From tonight on that strut would take on another form, a more predatory one. From tonight when he entered that casino all anyone would be able to see was an Alpha male on the prowl.

Josh was pretty certain that he knew what type of person he was going to be dealing with when he finally met Darius. He had looked over the file that Ahmed had put together for Danny, which had been fairly detailed. There were no clear photos of Darius in the file – apparently he was a little camera shy – but what it did have was a pretty in depth analysis of his tastes and preferences. And they were definitely expensive.

For example - he knew that when Darius stayed at the Marriott it was in one of the Penthouses and that his hotel tab was always high. He was someone who liked to live in the lap of luxury but, at the same time, not draw too much attention to himself. He had influential friends if the names on the call sheet Josh had seen were correct. Names that even Josh knew on sight; names that were involved with the government of Egypt. Names that were not necessarily associated with Darius' nefarious dealings, but how many times had crime been disguised as respectability? Just look at Las Vegas.

So yes – Josh had certainly run across Darius' type in the past, usually in the form of some party chair or large contributor. Half the time Josh found himself reluctantly kissing up to them, whilst wishing he could kick their butts around the beltway… and the other half, if he was lucky, his wish was granted and he could _actually_ kick their butts around the beltway. But it was going to be a little while longer before Darius got what was coming to him – but once Donna was out, all bets were off.

As the elevator stopped at the ground floor, Josh took a deep breath and headed out, strolling casually towards the casino doors. The guard on the door looked him up and down, earning an arrogant sneer in return as Josh breezed past him and onto the casino floor. Even at lunch time the gaming tables were active. He could see signs for poker, blackjack and roulette of various limits; in the far corner were the flashing lights of the one armed bandits, lined up like rows of little tin soldiers.

Josh looked around. He needed something that was going to either win him a lot of cash, or loose him a lot… it didn't really matter at this point; he just needed to be seen _with_ a lot of cash.

Finally, Josh settled on a poker table with an opening stake around the five hundred US mark and allowed himself to be dealt in.

He remained at the same table for nearly an hour, his luck nothing spectacular either way. Losing money didn't really bother him – the more he was seen to lose without batting an eyelid, the better it was for his image. But nonetheless, Josh was hoping he'd be spotted by the scout sooner rather than later, because whilst his bankroll was considerable, he didn't want to waste too much of it getting noticed.

Then suddenly, his luck turned.

He won three small pots in a row, before he had finally been handed what he considered a dead-man's hand – the hand consisted of the deuce of diamonds and the trey of clubs. In a normal game he would have folded immediately with such a bad hand. But this was anything but a normal game. He bet just high enough to arouse the interest of some of the other players, but not so much that they were scared off and fold the hand too early.

As the hand unfolded Josh saw, to his surprise, all but one dedicated player at the other end of the table fall away. His bluff was apparently working. The pot in the middle of the table had trebled in size as Josh and his opponent threw chips in left and right.

Josh watched in amazement as a second set of deuce and trey flopped on the table – at least he had two very small pair. But it was unlikely to win the hand. He did a quick calculation – at worst, if he went all in – he could lose the lot, which wasn't too much of a worry as he'd only brought the amount he'd been prepared to lose with him. At best he could play out the bluff and get a little something back. It was worth the risk.

In one final flashy show Josh went all in with his remaining chips – just over fifteen thousand US. His opponent called and went all in.

With all bets down, and about sixty thousand in the pot, the croupier called for the players to show their cards.

Josh tossed down his own deuce and trey nonchalantly as his opponent threw down the remaining pair of threes. Both of them had been bluffing. Meeting the other man's eye, Josh heard an exasperated sigh echo around the table as the others at the table realized they had been played by two guys who were holding the lowest cards in the deck. The crowd that had gathered around the table held its breath as the croupier flopped the river card down. The deuce of clubs. A roar went up from behind Josh and he felt someone slap him on the back.

He had won.

Unbelievably, with just one hand, he had more than doubled the amount of money he had walked onto the floor with. Whilst Josh enjoyed a game of poker, it wasn't the gambling that attracted him; it was the strategizing, the need to out-think your opponent and keep them guessing that he enjoyed the most. But he wasn't tempted to carry on playing. He'd done what he'd set out to do, so he decided it was time to retire gracefully. Tossing several chips back at the croupier who rewarded him with a grateful smile, Josh left the table and took his chips over to the cashier.. He was done gambling for the day.

It was time to get a drink, he thought. Off to one side of the casino was the lounge-bar and an open space with dimly-lit booths, low coffee tables and large, comfortable looking chairs. Spotting a table that would afford him a reasonably unrestricted view of the entire gaming area, Josh flopped casually into one of the plush chairs, crossed one leg over the other and motioned to one of the hovering waitresses. She walked to the booth and bent over his chair, giving him a flash of cleavage as she did so. Josh deliberately looked her up and down, raking his gaze over her making sure to take his time before lifting his eyes to her face. She was young, he noted – late teens at the most – but the smile she was giving him definitely belied her years.

_God, he felt like a sleaze._

When she came back with his drink, he made sure to tip her more than generously and as she bent over to set the glass down on the table in front of him, he put his hand around her wrist briefly then ran his hand along her arm to her elbow and back again.

She flashed him another smile, a nervous one this time, and as she moved to take her hand away, he gripped her wrist again, a little more tightly now, before releasing it and shooting her a predatory look.

A slight look of fear passed across her face.

_Great. Now I feel like a sleaze,__** and **__a pervert!_

Josh was grateful that CJ wasn't here to witness this. She would have killed him.

Grinding his teeth, he turned back to the table and picked up his drink. He forced himself to watch the young waitress make her way back towards the bar. She was about halfway across the room when a waiter stepped out and started whispering something to her. She flicked a glance back in Josh's direction and nodded once in response. Josh tried to make his face look as haughty and disinterested as possible and took a sip from his drink.

Sitting quietly for a few moments, Josh found he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched – which was fine; it was what he was here for, after all. He glanced around as unobtrusively as he could, hoping that if he _was_ being watched, it was the right person doing the watching.

Josh pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. Scanning the room, he noticed the same young waiter from before moving towards a booth on the opposite wall. He didn't pause in his sweep of the room, but he knew the man had been looking at him before he'd moved towards the booth. Josh watched as he bent to speak or listen to the single occupant; he waited until the younger man had straightened up and begun to move across the room to the bar before starting to speak into the phone.

"_At the tone the time will be…",_ the artificial voice droned.

"I don't care how much it costs, Hector," Josh growled over the top of the recorded message in a loud tone. "That shipment needs to be in Sydney by Wednesday or the deal is off."

Out of the corner of his eye, Josh saw the waiter move a little closer to his booth. Hello! He was right – he was the scout, and he had definitely got his attention… Now to bait the trap.

"I've had it up to my neck with your delays, Hector. You can go back to Martindale and tell him from me, that if he tries anything funny with this next batch, I'll make sure that the only place he'll be able to hawk his wares will be on street corners. Do you understand me?"

"_At the tone the time…"_

He clicked his phone shut and glanced around the room. The waiter was in the process of serving other guests but was obviously not focused on their needs.

_Gotcha! _Josh felt his smile slip from 'predator' to 'killer'.

Josh beckoned the girl over again. His drink was largely untouched on the table in front of him, so he ordered a bottle of water. Making sure his nosy watcher saw everything he ran his hand over the girl's hip as she stood close to him, and again threw a large tip onto her tray. He watched with satisfaction as the girl was waylaid by the scout as she walked over to the bar. He spoke to her briefly, then moved off towards the booth at the back once more.

Josh picked up his glass and flicked his eyes over towards the booth opposite, trying to get a glimpse of the occupant; but the lighting was quite dim and the man was half-turned away from him.

He looked up as the waitress arrived with his water; this time, he ran his fingers ever so gently up the back on her thigh as she bent over to place the water and a fresh glass on the low table. Josh felt her muscles flinch at his touch, noticing that her smile, which had previously been rather invitational, was now looking very strained. Beneath his calm exterior Josh fought to stop his own skin from creeping.

To hide his own repulsion at his actions, he threw some more notes ostentatiously onto her tray and gave her a light slap across the thigh. The girl's eyes flew open as she squeaked and moved away quickly. Josh watched with her a mock hunger in his eyes as she left.

In his peripheral vision, Josh could see the waiter watching him watch the waitress as she made her way back to the bar. When he made another move towards the booth at the back, Josh rose gracefully from the chair, adjusted his jacket and sauntered out of the bar.

If the poker win, the size of the tips he'd been throwing around and his treatment of the waitress hadn't gotten some attention – then he didn't know what would.


	28. Chapter 28

**Mon****day July 8, 2002. Cairo – 2.15pm Local Time**

A pair of dark eyes narrowed as the tall, lean man left the Casino lounge. They watched every move he made with careful attention as he worked his way across the gaming floor and back out into the lobby of the hotel.

Darius exhaled a stream of cigar smoke.

He had come down to the floor to meet with some associates when one of his informants came to tell him that there had been an Englishman making enquiries after him. And now, just under half an hour later this character had walked onto the Casino floor. The same man, most likely.

Being enquired after was nothing new to Darius. He was well known in Cairo, for many reasons and most of the players in town knew that he kept a room at the Marriott. The trick now was to find out which of those reasons this new arrival was interested in.

Judging by the way the man had treated the young waitress, Darius surmised that reason could well be his wish to … acquire… some female 'companionship'.

Last minute interest in his auctions was also nothing new. News of good merchandise travelled quickly in the right circles. It wasn't uncommon for him to see six, maybe seven new faces before every sale, although most of those didn't make the grade. Those without the requisite funds or with dubious credentials were weeded out fairly quickly; a word or two in the right ear and the newcomer would find himself leaving town rather suddenly. But sometimes, he did pick up one or two more satisfactory prospects. So one more last minute enquiry about him was of no real concern. A phone call or two and he would know exactly how the land lay.

Flicking a miniscule fleck of white lint off his dark pants, Darius rose to his feet and walked across the floor. Two burly men peeled themselves out of the shadows and followed him at a discreet distance. Darius smiled – the power these two radiated was potent even though he was walking in front of them. He savoured the feeling of knowing that it was obvious to anyone who looked that them that they were well equipped to deal with any unfortunate situation that might arise, and that to be employing such elite protection, Darius himself must be a person of importance.

Ahead of him, Darius could make out the form of the newcomer. Whoever he was, he was certainly sure of himself. The man stopped briefly at the information desk to speak to the concierge before heading out of the lobby towards the gardens. Darius and his sentinels moved across the floor towards the elevators, getting in and traveling in silence. Arriving at the door of his suite, Darius unlocked it and went inside.

The first line of business was to start uncover the identity of the new blood in town. Dialling the front desk, Darius requested that Jamal from reception be sent up.

Pouring himself a tall glass of water, Darius reclined on the overstuffed sofa in the corner of his suite. Plans for the latest auction were going smoothly and his scouts had managed to gather a very nice selection of merchandise; something to tempt even the most discerning purchaser. Darius opened the laptop that was sitting on the coffee table and switched it on. When it sprang to life, he sipped his water while looking at the images on the screen. Webcams had been placed in the majority of the rooms at the house where the 'stock' was being managed and he could see four different views – the front door and the three separate rooms in which the women were being held.

He found it an effective monitoring technique, but it wasn't a suitable method of inspection for potential buyers as it lacked the finesse a first hand inspection could offer.

Darius snorted at the predictability of the scene in the room he was looking into. Women huddled in groups, strangers clinging to each other with a single minded intensity. A few, those who had experienced this before, sat off to one side, their body language not as guarded as the others. They knew what was coming.

Darius didn't hate women. On the contrary, he loved them. They were tender and fresh and malleable if you treated them correctly. But he was also dispassionate about them – they were valuable commodities in the same way as a fine piece of art or sculpture might be. A commodity to be cleaned up and sold to the highest bidder. He didn't want harm to come to these women. Why would he? Damaging them would only lower their price and reduce his profits. He wasn't in this game for some sort of petty Freudian revenge against the "fairer sex".

No; he was in it for the money. Pure and simple. He had seen a niche in the market and had acted on it. His buyers got the best he could find – and they paid him handsomely for the privilege.

Darius supposed he could have sold cattle, but women were far more attractive to look at.

A slight movement off to one side caught Darius' attention. There... in the corner of the shot a tousled head of blonde hair… he allowed a small smile to play across his lips. That one was a find. That one he might consider keeping for himself. A bit spirited for his tastes, but she could be tamed – they all could be, given time and the right incentives.

There was a knock at the door and one of Darius' men moved over and opened it.

"Ah...yes... Jamal " Darius beckoned to the bellhop .

"Yes, sir?" he said nervously.

"The man who was down in the Casino this morning… the one you pointed out to me. What do you know about him?"

"His name is Freidric Ryde. He's a doctor. He checked in today and is leaving Wednesday – room 2314."

"Thank you. That's all." Darius handed the young man several notes and watched as he scurried out of the room. When the door had closed behind him, Darius reached for his cell phone. Ryde had been the name on the bar tab of the mysterious casino patron as well. This deserved some attention. The call he placed was answered after two rings. "It's me. I need a trace done. British, Dr Freidric Ryde arrived today..."


End file.
